


Savior

by TimmyJaybird



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-13
Updated: 2014-01-23
Packaged: 2018-01-08 14:00:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 14
Words: 38,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1133470
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimmyJaybird/pseuds/TimmyJaybird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Batman appears to the Joker one night in Arkham, demanding answers for a new threat the clown is thought to be involved in. When it appears he is as clueless as the vigilante, the two form an unlikely alliance, each with something to gain and lose. The game changes even more when the Joker begins to get visits from a certain Gotham socialite and business man- and when the administration of Arkham finally has enough of his destruction and decides he needs to change- or be eliminated.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The Joker lay on the cot in his dark cell, staring up at the black ceiling, listening to the muffled sounds outside his cell. Despite the thick walls in this ward to keep most sounds from the cells and halls mingling, he could still pick up bits and pieces, especially if he closed his eyes and focused. One of the many times he was alright with his oddly acute sensory perception, when he was bored and there was little else to do but listen.

Now, when he closed his eyes, he could hear two of the nurses as they walked the halls, probably on their way back to the station to sit for the rest of their shift. If he had his mental clock right, about forty two more minutes or so. He tapped his fingers on his chest as he tried to make out their words, something about this Saturday evening, Jim from Ward A, he was cute wasn’t he? He cracked a smile and made a mental note to find a reason to see Jim from ward A- he liked to know if these nurses were crazy or if they had taste. When he hatched his next escape plan, it might mean he did it on a night they weren’t on and they _lived_.

They passed beyond his hearing and the Joker fell to absolute silence again. It was cold in his cell, eerily so, like a breathe of cool air was being blown down on him straight from the frozen mouth of a God. If he hadn’t had practice, he;d be shivering. But he’d spent enough time in Arkham to know the cells were cold, and he could buck up to it. The flimsy clothing he was issued was no help, and the blanket he was left was thread bare and barely thicker than the pants he wore.

He wondered what his Bat was up to in that moment. It was early evening, he probably wasn’t suited up yet. The Joker pictured a faceless man slipping into that black suit, with all those silly buckles and clasps that so _infuriated_ him when he wanted to feel that skin beneath his fingertips. Always gave the Bat enough time to swat him away.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of heavy footsteps and wheels- one was broken, it spun awkwardly at times, he could tell. They stopped at his door, and the sounds of the locks giving echoed in the cell. When the door opened it was a large man standing there, shoving a tray into the dark.

“Dinner’s served,” he said in a listless voice and pulled the door closed again. The Joker lay there a moment, until the man was truly gone, and then sat up, cracking his neck and rotating his shoulders to liven up his body. Usually he was allowed to eat with the rest of the inmates- no, “patients”, that’s right, this was a “hospital”- but he’d been a bit _bad_ the other day and gotten caught up in a fight, ended up punching a guard, and here he was, confined to his cell for a week, except for his visits for therapy. Honestly, he hadn’t started the fight, just been at the right place at the right time to laugh and egg the men on. One of the guards mistook that for being a participating member, and when he put his hands on the Joker the man had spun and delivered quite a hook to his jaw. Practice, he’d been ready to punch the Bat who could take quite a lot of force.

He stood up and walked over to the tray, crouched down and picked up the plastic spork, poked at the unknown gray colored object- “meat” he assumed- and then decided, as per usual, that he wasn’t hungry anyway. He returned to his cot, lay down, began stretching his aching muscles. He wanted to move, it could be hard to be locked up so long when his muscles twitched and ached to be springing around Gotham- when _he_ yearned to be beneath that big, black clad body. He licked his lips and slipped his legs into the air, bending down unto the tips of his toes touched the mattress and left him in an awkward shape. He wished he could get his toes closer to his head. Oh well, he was definitely flexible enough for the Bat, when the time came.

And it would come soon. He’d been locked up ten days so far, and this was day four of his solitude. He wouldn’t stay here much longer, he’d work out his escape. He always did. He’d spend his days planning, and when they released him back into the commons, he’d be _extra good_ for the next two or three days he remained, then he’d be dust. Back in Gotham with the Bat on his coat tails and the wind in his lungs _just as it should be_.

Until then, he’d have to suffer this place. He grimaced as he stretched out, pulled his blanket up over him. The halls were silent, but it was late now, he didn’t expect much of anything. He just closed his eyes and tried not to focus on the cold seeping into his bones. He felt a shiver run through him, and cursed. He’d worked so hard to keep from shivering, his body’s betrayal annoyed him. He curled up on himself, trying to contain his body heat, when he heard footsteps echoing through out the hallway. Heavy footsteps, the kind made by thick boots and a solid body. Footsteps the Joker knew.

He sat up, tossed his blanket aside, took a deep breath and brushed his fingers through his curls quickly, as the footsteps stopped, the locks opened. When the door swung open, the Bat’s silhouette stood there, stark against the flickering lights of the hallway.

“Batsy,” he said, grinning, “why, what a _pleasure_. Didn’t expect to see you here, lambchop.”

Batman walked in, directly towards the Joker, stepping over the forgotten tray on the floor. He reached him, reached down, fisted a hand in his shirt.

“I’m not here for your pleasure,” he said, all guttural and serious, “I’ve got some questions.”

“Ask away _big boy_ ,” the Joker said, reaching up and ghosting his fingers over Batman’s knuckles, before his fingers walked their way up his arm, reached his elbow before they were swatted away.

“The antidote for Ivy’s latest toxin. Where is it?”

The Joker stared for a moment, confused. He clicked his tongue, furrowed his brow. “Uhm, Batsy baby, don’t tell me you’re going senile already. Do I _look_ liked a red headed crazy chick?” He ran his hands down his chest. “Hmm, definitely lacking her tits.” He traveled lower, let one hand go between his legs, then smirked. “Ah! Yes, I seem to be packing something I _doubt_ Ivy would be.”

Batman shoved him back across the cot, until his back smashed into the wall. He leaned onto the thin mattress, one leg between the Joker’s thighs. “Answers, Joker. Where is it.”

“Hate to say it, Bats, but I have no idea what you’re talking about. I haven’t worked with Ivy in quite a while. I leave her to her own _business_.”

“I don’t believe you.” The Joker laughed, reaching out, planting both his hands on Batman’s thigh.

“When have you ever?” He leaned in, smile dropping off his face, leaving it serious, cast in shadow. He was thankful for that, as the administration was firmly against giving him any face paint here, leaving him scarred and naked to prying eyes. “But this time, Bats, look me in my eyes and tell me you don’t believe me.”

Batman did, he stared into those green eyes, and after a moment looked away.

“What do you know about Harley’s plans, then?”

“Harley?” The Joker chuckled now. “Her plans ought to be sitting tight until I come gather her up when I get out of here, precious.”

“Well, that’s not what she’s doing.” The smile faltered again.

“And, might I ask, what _is_ my little Harley doing?” Batman leaned back, finally pulled his leg away from the Joker’s touch. He stood up, began to pace, and the Joker watched form the shadows at the way his cape fluttered gently, at the shadows over the contours of muscle within that suit. He licked his lips.

“You really don’t know?”

“I’m as in the dark as you, Bats. Apparently, more.” He drummed his fingers on his thigh, wished the Bat would come back to the cot. Wished he would get a little forceful, so the Joker had an excuse to pin him down. He was more likely to get some sort of _decent_ response if there was a preconceived reason for him to be crawling on top of his Bat. Not that the man had even once responded pleasantly for more than a few mere seconds.

“Ivy released a toxin at a small get together the mayor hosted this weekend,” Batman finally said. “All the attendees, including the mayor himself, are hospitalized currently. She’s demanding ten million per dose of the antidote. So far, a few people have already said they are willing to pay- but I cannot allow this to slide.”

“Rich friends,” the Joker said with a snort, “must be _nice_.”

“You’ve stolen enough over your career to live like a king.” The Joker shrugged.

“When you have a woman like Harley, it all disappears before you can count it. She always had expensive taste. Besides, gasoline is getting expensive, Batsy baby.” Batman frowned, but continued regardlessly.

“Well, she isn’t stopping there. She’s threatening another release this Sunday, unless we meet her other demands.”

The Joker reached up, toyed with one curl. He saw Batman watching the action and smiled, tugging on it playfully and throwing him a wink. “This is all _oh-so_ interesting Bats, but what makes you think I’m involved?”

“Every time Ivy appears to voice her demands and threats, Harley is there with her. The capsules that had the toxin in it, that she put into the champagne, where red and black. And Harley’s thugs- _your_ thugs originally, have begun to sport a ring of thorns on their person somewhere. Anywhere as it stands.”

The Joker was quiet for a moment, before he pushed himself from the bunk, fisted his hands at his sides. “That worthless, no-good, nonsensical bitch,” he nearly snarled, “I’m gone ten days and she’s fucking shacking up with someone else _already_? How hard is it to get a little _commitment_? I tell ya Bats, you just can’t find good women these days.”

Batman smirked at the man’s frustration. “I guess I was wrong to come here then, you really don’t know anything.” He turned, about to leave, when the Joker froze, called out sharply, “Bats!”, and reached for that cape, getting a fistful of it.

Batman stopped and turned, didn’t tug to cape away. “Listen Bats,” the Joker said, voice dipping low, serious. He knew that voice, it was dangerous- because it was controlled, and the Joker was never controlled. “I’ve got a bone to pick with my Pumpkin out there. Even if she thinks she’s some hot shot without me now, I’ve got _connections_. I can get you something.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know without asking the right questions first,” the Joker said, clicking his tongue, “but I can get you something. But...” he trailed off, and Batman’s lips tightened into a line.

“What do you want?”

“Just a little request. Not now, but down the line.”

“I won’t hurt anyone, Joker.”

“And I won’t ask you to, sugar.” He purred the last word, tugged on the cape and held it close to his chest. “Just agree Bats. You’re desperate for a lead if you’re comin’ to _me_.” He grinned, and Batman sighed.

“Fine.”

“Give me two nights,” the Joker said, “then come back. I’ll have something for you.”

Batman gave a curt nod, before he made for the door again. The Joker loosened his grip on the Bat’s cape, watched it slip from his hands and disappear out the door as it closed tightly. When he could no longer hear those angry footsteps, the Joker turned back to his cot and crawled back in, closed his eyes and ran his hands over his face. They smelled like Gotham- like wind and the night sky and chemicals and smoke-

They smelled like Batman’s cape.

When the Joker awoke the next day, he realized he’d slept through his breakfast delivery. He stretched out on the cot, stared up at a ceiling which had changed in color slightly- they’d turned a light on in his cell. Probably to rouse him, to prod into his eyeballs. He stood up, stretched again, heard bones cracking and muscles snapping, and padded over to the tray. He crouched down, poked at the cold, runny eggs, and decided he could skip another meal. It wouldn’t matter, he’d be out soon enough, and he was used to dropping a few pounds with every visit to Arkham.

He walked a few laps around his cell, stretched to bide his time, even tried to exercise- he’d never have the strength or muscle of the Bat, oh no, but that didn’t mean he could idol around. He had to have some power in his body.

Finally, two guards and a nurse arrived at what he knew to be 10:45. They ordered him to stand in the center of the room and he complied, allowed them to shackle him and lead him out of his cell. His eyes darted around, tried to take in every face, those he knew, those he didn’t.

He was led out of the ward and into the nicer halls, kept up for the doctors. They stopped at a door labeled _Dr. Joseph Hill_ , and the nurse knocked, then stepped in. A few moments later and the Joker was brought in, one of the guards forcing him down into a chair. A man was sitting behind a desk, middle aged, dark hair with just a speckle of gray, but not thinning yet.

_Good for him_ the Joker thought, he did every time he got a good look at Dr. Hill.The guards were walking out slowly, the nurse following, and when the door closed Dr. Hill stood and walked around his desk, sitting down in another chair and clicking on his recorder. He wrote something on his pad of paper, before speaking in a calm and steady voice,

“Good morning, Joker.”

“Well goo-d morning, Doc,” he said, leaning back into the chair and stretching his arms out over it. The one good thing about therapy- it gave him an excuse to sit on something that wasn’t all springs and soggy sponge- like his cot.

“How have you been finding your isolation?”

“Oh so dull,” the Joker said, “As always.”

“Has it made you see your error?”

“Oh yes!” He clapped his hands together. “I was out of line, I should have never punched that guard. He was just doing his _job_.” The doctor frowned, and the Joker bit his tongue to stop himself. He’d like to keep going, to tease and taunt, but he needed to find a way to get his freedom. Bats would be back tomorrow night, and he needed to have something for him. Something to get him to come back. That meant he needed a little freedom, a little wiggle room, to get to his contacts.

Or make new ones.

“In fact,” the Joker said, working hard to control his voice, “I’d like to apologize to the man.” Dr. Hill stopped writing and stared at him for a moment, and the Joker tried to not gag on the nasty taste in his mouth. The taste of slef betrayal.

By the end of _therapy_ he had indeed _apologized_ to the man, who had stood in just as much shock as the doctor had. Dr. Hill proceeded to state for the recorder that he thought this was a serious break through, that finally perhaps the Joker was showing some remorse. By the end, the Joker was tasting blood from biting his tongue so much- but he left therapy with the knowledge that he could join the rest of the patients for dinner, thought he would otherwise stay confined to his cell while Dr. Hill discussed lightening his punishment with his colleagues.

_One small step_.


	2. Chapter 2

He waited impatiently for that time to come. He paced, he sat and thought, tried to go through his mental list of names and who he could get to. Who would Harley have under her fingers. And when that failed, he thought about how he’d punish her and that green devil woman- Ivy.

He hadn’t been entirely honest with Batman involving Ivy. Sure, he hadn’t worked with her personally for quite some time, but he had been in contact. Harley had been taking quite a liking to her, and it got her out of his hair when he was trying to fantasize about his Bat, so he hadn’t put a stop to it. Perhaps he had let it get a bit out of hand.

When he was finally removed from his cell and led down towards the cafeteria, his excitement had mounted not only at the opportunity, but at the fact that he was actually hungry, and might consider attempting to keep some of the garbage this establishment called _food_ down- though, he knew by experience, he had about a forty percent chance of vomiting it all back up later. He was convinced everything was laced.

The Joker hadn’t expected company during his meal, and he was right- as per usual. The typical crazies who might have endured his company were absent- as far as he knew, good old Eddie was at large, and obviously Harley was not sharing his stay this time. It was perfect, though, it gave him the chance to scan the room for familiar faces, both guards and inmates. He counted a few, and most owed him a favor or another- or could be bribed. Bribery was always functional at Arkham.

After his meal- which he had barely touched, deciding upon seeing it that hunger was a better pain than the burning os his esophagus- he let the guards lead him not to his cell, but to the showers. They had been forcing him to wait until right before he was locked back up for the night due to his confinement, but he hoped that would be changing too. By now the water was nothing but frigid, and leaving him in that freezing cell still mostly wet was _never_ a pleasant feeling.

They were stopped at the doors by one guard, holding his hand out. “Hold on Luke, still got some guys in there.”

“I wait any longer and I won’t hit the station before the girls leave,” the guy complained, “let’s just throw him in there. They’re gonna end his confinement early anyway- good behavior or some bullshit. Besides, what’s the worse that happens? He drops the soap?” The two laughed. “Bastard could probably get some sense fucked into him.”

_Only by Batsy_ the Joker silently mused as he was escorted and uncuffed. There was one guard posted inside the door, and three other inmates in the large shower area. With no curtains, it was just a large, tiled area that left no privacy, and no decency. Not that, at this point, it really mattered to anyone who had already done a stay at the asylum. They were used to the lack of boundaries.

The guard that has escorted the Joker in left, patting the one remaining inside on the shoulder and saying something about taking the _wack job_ back to his cell when he was done. The Joker smiled to himself, perfect. A change in guard always helped, there was always some communication lacking.

He stripped and made his way to one stream of water. It was cold, as expected, and caused his skin to break out in goosebumps. He gritted his teeth against it, considered closing his eyes and imaging the warmth of the Bat to fight it, but knew that wasn’t the best of ideas, considering his lack of clothing. Instead, he let his eyes jerk around at the other inmates, stopping at one with a grin. _Perfect_.

“Percy doll,” he said as he walked over, leaned his face close to the naked man. The skinny kid jumped- just barely over twenty, and stared with wide eyes at the Joker.

“J-J-“

“Surprised?” He leaned under a jet of water, let it rinse through his green curls, the blonde showing at the roots. They wouldn’t give him hair dye here, either. Another reason he’d need to leave soon, he needed to primp.

“I heard you were in solitary-“

“Good behavior,” the man said with a shrug. “Listen, Percy, I need a little _favor_.” He grinned, that signature smile that made the kid’s heart skip three beats and try to dive bomb into his guts. He swallowed the lump in his throat.

“Y-yeah, sure. W-what do ya need?”

“Just a little information. A...message, if you will.” He ran a hand back through his wet hair. “I know your daddy still has connections to my men. I need you to ask him what they’ve been up to- and how many of them have followed Harley on her little... _adventure_.”

“How did you hear about Harley?” he asked, and the Joker frowned, gritted his teeth. How did he seem to be the last to know?

“A little batty told me,” he said, “but it doesn’t matter. I just need to know who is still _mine_. Your daddy didn’t follow her on her little trip, did he?”

“N-no sir! He’s still loyal to you, Joker. He mentions you on his daily visits to me, says if there’s a way to _convince_ them to let you out, he’d do it!” The Joker knew _convince_ meant pay, and he also knew the kid was lying through his teeth, but it didn’t matter. He was scared- and that was good. So long as he still had fear on his side, the Joker was sure he could turn this situation around.

“Good.” He reached out, tossed his arm around the kid’s shoulders. “Then you ask him, and get an answer straight away. I need it before tomorrow night- say, at dinner? Why, you can keep me company.” Percy swallowed the lump in his throat.

“Y-yeah, no problem sir.” The Joker smiled and patted him on the back, considered scaring the kid a bit more by letting his hand linger, but retracted it. The guy wasn’t bad, but he was no Bats, and that was the only one the Joker had a taste for. Instead he left it at that, turned and walked a few shower heads away to enjoy some peace.

The Joker expected to be taken directly back to his cell after, and was suppressed to take a different root, stopping at the nurse’s station. The guard leaned against the counter, talking to one of the nurses, seeming to have no a care that the Joker was just standing there- even if he was bound. It irritated him a bit, as if he was being cast aside as something to _not_ be feared, but he tried to take advantage of it-

Especially when he saw familiar face, number two.

The girl was staring down at her clipboard- a nurse, but he knew her. Knew her because her boyfriend ran with a gang he’d hired more than once for a few jobs, knew her because she had bit of a cocaine hook outside of the hospital- knew her because he’d seen her do some wild stuff for it, and had _laughed_ the whole time.

She went to walk past him and he smiled, said very softly, “Hello, sweetheart.” She stopped, looked at him, and her eyes behind her glasses told him she hadn’t expected him to ever recognize her. He just smile at her stunned silence. “Didn’t know you doubled her as well as-“

“Hush,” she said, looking around nervously, “Don’t say it- no one knows here about my- my-“

“That little addiction you’ve got?” He quirked up an eyebrow, reached his cuffed hands up and pressed a finger to his lips. “Oh, I won’t tell _a thing_ sweetheart. I take care of my own- and by connection, _that means you_.”

It was mostly a lie- he didn’t give a shit about most of the thugs he hired, even if he rehired them, if they managed to complete a job. Truthfully, he wouldn’t even have remembered most of the low-lifes, except that his memory, like his senses, was perfect. Nearly photographic- but he wasn’t one to _brag_.

Well, not in this moment.

She didn’t seem happy about being considered one of his, but that was okay. He’d rather deal with fear than adoration. “How is that boyfriend of yours? I was going to call him for a little something before I got myself in here.”

“He’s fine,” she said, “not keeping very...busy.” _Ah, not many calls with me locked up. Harley isn’t using him. That means she’ll do anything I ask...for the right price._

“Shame, he’s got some skill,” the Joker said. “Sweetie, I’ve got a bit of a need here. I need some information from him.”

She shifted her weight from foot to foot, craned her neck to make sure the guard was still talking to the other nurse. “Joker, I don’t know-“

“I’d pay for his time,” he said, smiling a bit too sweetly. “Of course, and for yours. When was the last time you had a good line, doll?” That got her. She looked around again, then stepped closer, close enough that her arm brushed his- and her skin was so _soft_ , she might have been tempting to toy with if he didn’t have the promise of the Bat returning soon.

“What do you need?”

“I need him to reach out to a dear friend,” the Joker said with a grin, “to get some information for me. Here, let me write a note for my friends, just have him deliver it. He’ll pay you for your time and efforts.” She passed him the clipboard and pen and he began to scrawl out on it. “And darling, I need it done tonight, and my answers tomorrow, before they put me back in my cell for the night.”

“But, that’s-“

“The only way this will work.” He looked at her out of the corner of his eye, and she nodded, taking the clipboard back and looking at the note quickly. “I’ve left instructions as to where he can find him.” She nodded, turned to walk away, and he smiled one more time. “Oh, give him my regards.” He grinned and she looked, nodded, then hurried off, leaving the Joker to whistle to himself as the guard finally led him back to his cell. Yes, this was all working out just perfectly.

He curled right up on his cot once he was released, folded in on himself to preserve some warmth, and closed his eyes- let the knowledge that his Dark Knight would be arriving the next night lull him into a cold sleep.

He knew Percy wouldn’t be seeing his drug dealing daddy until after lunch, and he would have no choice but to wait until dinner to get the information from him. That meant he had to live through therapy and hours of confined boredom. That meant putting on another good show for the doctor.

He skipped breakfast again, managed to ignore the pain in his stomach that told him he needed to eat, and sat through therapy a quite, but complacent participant. He refused to compromise himself, but he lied about how apologizing had made him feel so much better, and that it had been so wonderful to be able to eat- not that he actually had- surrounded by people. He hoped he would get the privilege again.

Dr. Hill assured him he could take his dinners with the other patients, while he continued to work on ending his confinement early. At this point, he knew it wouldn’t be much early, but that didn’t matter. All that mattered was that little sliver of time.

When it finally came, he tried to keep his excitement contained. He let himself be led to the cafeteria, got that awkward plastic tray covered in pale, colorless foods, and settled down alone, eyes scanning the room. He drummed his fingers on the table, waiting, watching every new group of patients shuffled in. Each face that didn’t belong to Percy made him want to twitch. While the information Percy was going to bring him wasn’t as integral for the Bat as his other source, it was something he needed, in order to figure out his losses.

Finally he appeared, nervous little eyes scanning the room after he’d gotten his own tray. He spotted the Joker, swallowed a lump in his throat, and made his way slowly, making it seem as if everywhere he liked, he couldn’t quite squeeze in. Finally, he sat down across from him, head down, picking up a spork and swirling it in what _might_ have been an excuse for mashed potatoes.

“You’ve got men in your old apartment on the far side of town,” Percy said softly. “Only a handful, but they’ve taken up in one of the smaller buildings you used to lay low in from time to time. Father says they’ve been there since the first night you were locked up, but he doesn’t think they’ll last much longer. Miss Harley- she’s persuasive. She’s offering to pay them way more than you ever did- says Miss Ivy will pull in way more money. Says they’re not preoccupied with Batman like-“

“Enough,” the Joker growled, not liking this news. Not liking Harley’s attitude. “Anything _else_.”

“Father talked about a new drug on the rise,” he said, “Said it’s getting big with the kids. Thought you might want to know.”

“Does it have a name?” the Joker asked, and Percy nodded.

“Yeah, it’s called Giggles.”

Once locked inside his cell for the night, he primped as best he could, then waited. His hair dried before Batman would arrive, and he toyed with the growing curls, all the while humming to himself in a frustrated sort of victory. He didn’t like what he had, some of the information, but he had enough for Bats to show he was _a man of his word_. And get his reward, perhaps.

It was Bat hour- just after midnight, when the petty criminals were done with their nonsense, when those footsteps filled the hallways and his sensitive ears. He was laying on his bunk, waiting, fingers drumming on his stomach as his body ached in anticipation. When the locks creaked and moved and the door slipped open, he didn’t look, tried to save face and keep calm. Only when it was closed and the Bat was walking towards him did he speak.

“ _Hello darling_.”

“Joker.” He turned his head, saw the man was standing in the center of the room, and sat up, tilting his head and letting a few stray curls fall into his face.

“Come a little closer, sugar. I’ve missed you, you know.” Batman frowned, but stepped closer, until the Joker could see the way the shadows played perfectly on that suit, on the muscles beneath. He hummed in approval.

“What do you have for me?”

“Oh, always straight to business with you!” He pouted. “But oh well, I never was one to hold out on the first date.” He leaned back against the wall, motioned Batman closer. The man hesitated, and the Joker frowned. “Oh, humor me you humorless oaf,” he said with a roll of his eyes, “just come here.”

Batman sighed and obeyed, crawling onto the bunk and sitting next to the Joker, who’s frown turned into a little smile.

“Ivy is planning on releasing her toxin at the opera this Sunday night,” the Joker said calmly, “she intends to plant it in the drinks of all the notable visitors, along with in the drinks of the performers. She doesn’t plan on targeting the general public in this hit.”

Batman didn’t move for a moment, then finally turned to him. “How did you-“

“Connections,” the Joker said with a grin. “Always connections. A good friend _clued_ me in.” Batman was quiet for a moment, before he realized the inflection in the man’s voice.

“The Riddler-“

“Eddie has always been such a _dear, dear_ friend.” The Joker reached over, placed his hand on Batman’s thigh, waited a moment for it to be swatted away. When it wasn’t, he let his fingers twitch with joy. “Not as dear as you, darling.” He squeezed, felt Batman shifting, but still his hand was left. _Interesting..._

“I’ll get the Commissioner to close down the opera-“

“I wouldn’t do that,” the Joker said with a _tsk_. “You do, and she might get angry, change her plans. Then you won’t know what she’s, ah, planning. No, no no no no. Let it all go _according to plan_.”

“I won’t risk lives-“

“You won’t have to.” The Joker moved suddenly, taking a chance and vaulting over Batman’s legs, settling on his lap and pressing his hands to the wall on either side of his face. “Don’t let her _know_ that you know. Instead, get to the gritty bottom of all her plans. Figure out how she intends to smuggle the toxin in and _cut her off_.” He purposefully gyrated his hips against the Bat’s with each last word, saw something in those dark eyes flash that he had _never_ seen.

“Why should I listen to you?” Batman said, thought the words were thick and heavy in his mouth- the Joker could hear it. “You might be lying- might have been lying this whole time. Maybe you are working with her.” The Joker frowned, leaning closer.

“Because, Batty my sweet,” he said, reaching one hand from the wall to stroke his cheek with the back of his hand, “I’ve got a score to settle with Miss Red and that Quinny Cunt of mine.” The words tasted like venom, came out a hiss, and those dark eyes relaxed.

“Fine. But I’m going to need more information.”

“Well, if I was out on the streets I could help-“

“I will _not_ have you released.” The Joker frowned.

“Pity Bats, it might be fun to be leaping those rooftops _with_ you. But I’ll play nice, even if you won’t share.” His hand trailed down his jawline and neck, rested on his chest. “I’ll help you out. I’m sure my little Nygma has more information than he gave me- but then again, I didn’t ask the right questions. And that’s always _key_ with him.”

“Why would he help you, knowing you’re helping me?”

“I can’t promise he will,” the Joker said, shrugging a shoulder, “but give me a night or two at least before you go and blow our ignorant lie _sky hiiigh_.” Batman narrowed his eyes.

“Two nights, that’s it. If you don’t have anything for me by Friday, I’m going to have it canceled, and I’ll just have to be ready for whatever she does in retaliation.”

The Joker smiled. “That’s plenty of time. Now, since I was _such_ a good boy Bats, how about a little kiss-“

“Try it and I’ll break all your teeth.” The Joker pouted, pressed closer so their chests were flush together and rested his face in the crook of Batman’s shoulder.

“Fine. _Fiiiine_ , party pooper.” He nuzzled in, felt the heat radiating off the Bat and warming him- felt his hands resting on his waist, tightening, ready to lift him off. “Just give me a minute,” he mumbled, closing his eyes, “I deserve at least that.”

Batman’s hands tensed, then relaxed, stroking soothingly up and down his sides without an argument.


	3. Chapter 3

The Joker was haunted by the ghost of the Bat’s heat through out the night- and when he woke up he was shivering and unable to stop, despite his usual tolerance. He felt light headed when he stood, stretched, and stumbled back onto his cot, having to close his eyes to get the room to stop. He frowned, shook his head, forced himself to stand again, not sure what was wrong with him. He wasn’t drugged, he knew that- they hadn’t tried to get him on medication yet. The administration knew how well that always went over- no doubt they were working out some lengthy prescription list for him, though.

When the guard gathered him for therapy, he wasn’t feeling any better. He hid it behind a smile though, a few giggles, as he was led along familiar hallways-

To a door that was suddenly changing. The little plaque that had read _Dr. Joseph Hill_ was gone, replaced instead with a new name- _Dr. Anthony Shepard_. A name the Joker didn’t know. He was led inside and forced down into a chair rather harshly, as the young man got up and walked around his desk, eyeing the Joker. He was younger- very young, actually. Must be fresh out of school. But how did he managed to get a position here, already?

“Where’s Dr. Hill?” the Joker asked. He was slowing wrapping the man around his finger- in no time, he would have had him under his thumb.

“Dr. Hill has left the establishment,” the young man said with a cocky smile, “has taken up a job elsewhere. I’ll be handling your case now, Joker. Which means there will be some changes.” He sat on the corner of his desk, and the Joker realized the guards hadn’t left yet. They never stayed _in_ the room during therapy- patient confidentiality and all that bullshit. “Therapy has never worked with you before, Joker, and while I know Dr. Hill was convinced he had finally made a breakthrough, I highly doubt it. So, we will be cutting therapy from your daily schedule.”

The Joker raised an eyebrow at this. Not that he particularly minded, therapy was nothing but a dull charade- but he knew it wasn’t going without a price.

“Instead, we will be instigating a new system. You behave, and we’ll leave you be. You’ll slowly gain a few privileges. You misbehave, and we punish you. Like a dog.”

The man was trying to sound threatening, but the Joker wasn’t buying it. There wasn’t a thing these men could do to him that could rival what the world had done over his years.

“Also, your solitary confinement will not be ending early. While the guard has said he believed your apology, I highly doubt it was true. You will remain on lock down for the next few days, and then we will slowly bring you back into the _public_. Until then, your meals will again be taken completely in your cell, and you shall leave once a day for bathing after the other patients have. Guards, you can return him to his cell, we’re done here.”

The grabbed the Joker and hoisted him up. The sudden movement made his head spin, and while he wanted to give the doctor a good retort, he was afraid opening his mouth might lead him to vomit, so he kept it shut and squeezed his eyes closed, trying to find his footing.

No, this wasn’t good. Not right now, not yet. He needed to get one more message out- just one, he knew now. If Harley hadn’t gone turn-cloak on him, he wouldn’t be in such a dilemma, but as it stood, he needed to talk to Eddie.

While the guards were escorting him back, they were stopped as a large group was taking up the hallway near the nurses’ station- well dressed and chatty, the Joker could assume they were the funding behind this shithole. Still, it was perfect timing, when he noticed his one ticket out of here walking away from the station.

“Hello doll,” he whispered as the guards tried to get the group to move so they could get him to his cell. “Thank you again for the information you got me. Your boyfriend wasted no time getting to my friend- and I _appreciate_ that.”

“No problem.” She was more relaxed now- probably felt better now that she’d had a hit. He could use that.

“I do need another favor though. Just a message to get to my friend.” He shot a quick look at the guards, but the eye movement made him dizzy. He swallowed the lump in his throat, wondered what was wrong with him, and forced himself to look back at her. “He needs to come see me.”

“What?” she asked, then lowered her voice, realizing she had spoken louder than intended. “How would he sneak in here-“

“It wouldn’t matter how,” the Joker said, “He’s nearly as crafty as I am. Just tell him, and it has to be tomorrow. I will not be taken from my cell, so he’ll need to find a way to come to me.”

“What if he says no?” she asked, nervous, and the Joker smiled.

“Trust me, he won’t.”

She left him quickly with a rushed promise that her boyfriend would deliver the message. That left the Joker to try and examine the massive group of people too busy chatting to let the guards squeeze through with him. They didn’t want to risk him possibly _touching_ one of them, he was sure, so they needed them to move. They had plenty of guards with them, and the clothing, the jewelry, definitely said money. He eyed their faces, mostly middle age, boring, dull, uuuhhh-gly-

And then, young. Young and _rather handsome_. The Joker quirked up an eyebrow, studied the well shaped face, the dark hair and eyes, the body sculpted beneath the expensive but rather well fitted suit. _Hellooo, beautiful._

He licked his lips, dared to take a step closer to the guards to get a better view, when suddenly they were grabbing him by the arms and jolting him forward. They were saying rather harshly that everyone needed to move now, that they had a high dangerous criminal who needed to be returned to his cell, but he barely heard any of it. The movement made him dizzy, the world spin, and he couldn’t make it stop. They tried to drag him, and suddenly he was tripping over his own feet, falling down with his knees banging onto the tiled floor harshly. He saw spots, heard voices, and then finished his fall, spilling out onto the cold tile to the blackness behind his eyelids. They world faded slower at that point, he heard shouts, heard the guards yelling at everyone to stay back-

Felt a hand slip beneath his head, turn him from his side to his back and cradle him gently. Then he was numb.

The first thing the Joker took in was a steady beep, then the feeling of something actually almost soft beneath him. He groaned, fluttered his eyes open, stared up at a white ceiling- not dim and dark, not his cell. How wasn’t he in his cell?

He looked at his arm, saw an IV coming from it, and started to sit up. Suddenly someone was moving- he heard a chair move, the footsteps- and then saw and felt a hand rest on his arm.

“Careful,” he said, “I’d stay lying down if I were you.”

The Joker raised one delicate eyebrow, recognized that _handsome_ man that had been with the chatty little group keeping him from his cell.

“What-“

“You passed out,” he said. “Some doctor wanted to just shove you back in your cell, but I convinced him you needed some _real_ medical care. You were pretty weak when they got the IV in you.”

The Joker licked his lips. His mouth was dry. “How did you manage to _convince_ Dr. Shepard of that?” He didn’t need to ask which doctor, he knew. He also had a new judgement on this doctor- he had to _go_.

“Told him I wasn’t interested in funding a hospital where they don’t _help_ their patients.” The Joker clicked his tongue, smiled a little.

“Well then, darling, I guess I owe you.” He sat up this time, gave him a mock bow. “What’s your name, prince charming?”

“Bruce. Bruce Wayne.”

The Joker giggled. “Oh this has _got_ to be some sort of joke,” he said, “and I would know! Gotham’s most desired bachelor did not just save me.” Bruce gave him a rather sheepish smile, and the Joker _liked_ it. He opened his mouth to speak, but shut it when a nurse appeared, peering over her clipboard nervously.

“M-Mr. Wayne,” she said, “W-we advise you not to be so...close to the patient. He isn’t restrained.”

“It’s alright,” Bruce said, looking at the Joker briefly, “I don’t think he’s going to break my neck just yet.”

The Joker smiled- a little quirk of his lips, but real, one he hadn’t planned on.

They were escorting him back to his cell shortly after he woke up. Bruce thought he should be forced to stay in the medical ward- and voice that opinion- but it was ignored. He did, however, convince the guards to let him walk back to the Joker’s cell with him. Once there, the led the Joker inside and Bruce stood in the doorway, wrapping his arms around himself.

“It’s freezing,” he said, brow furrowing, and the Joker sighed.

“Try it at night after a cold shower,” he said as his cuffs were removed and he rubbed his wrists. Bruce frowned, and when the guards reached the doorway he folded his arms.

“I want a minute with him.”

“Not a chance, rich boy,” one of the guards said, “move it, you had your fun. Go tell your friends how you got to be close up with the big bad Joker.” Bruce frowned, straightened up.

“Move,” he said, “or I will move you myself.” The guards looked at each other, and the other shrugged.

“Fine, your funeral. Wacko.” They stepped aside and let Bruce pass. “We’re closing the door. Five minutes and we open it again.”

Bruce waved his hand in agreement and stepped inside, felt more than saw the light disappear as the door closed.

“Is it always this dark?” he asked and the Joker just stared at him for a moment, before nodding.

“Uh, yeah. Unless they want to wake me u-p. Then it’s like sitting in the _sun_.” He walked over to his cot and sat down, eyed Bruce as he walked around the cell quickly, eyes taking it all in. “So, Prince Charming, what makes someone so _privileged_ as yourself want to spend five minutes alone with little ole _me_.”

“Is it really always this cold?”

“Always.” Bruce walked over, and the Joker watched as he crawled onto the cot, nearly pinning him to the wall. For a moment, he forgot to breathe- wasn’t sure what was wrong with him _now_.

“Have you been feeling ill? You didn’t just pass out for no reason. I don’t want to leave if they’re not treating you properly.” This snapped him back, and the Joker laughed.

“Sweetheart, you do know who you’re talking to, right? I’m the goddamn Joker, they treat me however they want.” He shrugged a shoulder. “Maybe I was just hungry.”

“When did you last eat?”

He started counting on his fingers, got to four, and Bruce shoved his hand back down, not wanting to see any more, their fingers entwining in a way that made the Joker forget to breathe again.

“Are they even feeding you?”

“Eh,” the Joker said, “it’s not food, but they offer something.” Bruce sighed, tightened his hold on the Joker’s hand.

“How about you try to eat something? So you don’t, you know, die on me.” The Joker laughed, raised an eyebrow.

“Oh darling, did I miss the moment where I suddenly mattered in your life?”

If there was an answer, he didn’t get it. Bruce moved off him, and like clockwork the door opened. He turned and left without a word, and the Joker watched him go, felt something tugging and tightening inside his chest that he didn’t _understand_. When he was locked back in the darkness, he lay down and cradled his hand, the one Bruce had held.


	4. Chapter 4

The guards didn’t get him for dinner or a shower that evening, nor did they bring food. The Joker gritted his teeth but otherwise lay in a sleep like state, feeling exhausted. When he did sleep, it was heavy and dark, and the only thing he felt was someone holding his chilled hand.

He awoke later than usual- he could feel it. Disoriented, he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to listen to the world outside, could hear voices. Arguing. The words were hushed, he couldn’t make them out, but there was definitely some sort of confrontation. Then, the locks moved, and suddenly his door was opening.

“And some light too!”

The voice, it made the Joker’s eyes open, because he wasn’t sure he really heard it. Standing there, in his cell once again, was Bruce Wayne- still as delicious looking as ever in his suit with a lavender tie- of which, the Joker approved. Suddenly there was light in his cell- not much, not blinding, but enough that he could see, felt like it was day and not eternal night. He sat up as the door closed, as Bruce walked over.

“So, should I call you sleeping beauty?” The Joker cracked a grin, tilting his head to let his curls catch some of the fresh light.

“Only if you stay, ah, Prince Charming.” Bruce just smiled, before setting the duffle bag he was carrying down on the ground. The Joker watched as he opened it, curious. Carefully Bruce pulled out a rolled up blanket, and quickly fanned it out over the cot.

“It’s inhumane to keep you in these conditions,” he said, “Joker or not. I can’t convince them- _yet_ \- to heat this cell properly, but I can at least bring you this.”

The Joker reached for it, played with the hem. Bruce turned away and rummaged back in the bag and he lifted it up, wrapped himself in it- could smell Bruce’s cologne on it. He inhaled and felt butterflies in his stomach and wanted to _laugh_ at himself.

When Bruce turned back around he set a few small boxes on the bed. Granola bars. This time, the Joker _did_ laugh.

“Well aren’t you the little boy scout,” he mused, “Am I the sick old granny you’ve got to care for to get that merit badge? Maybe I ought to just call you champ.” He giggled to himself and Bruce rolled his pretty dark eyes, then sat down on the bed.

“You’re a monster,” he said, “but you’re human, in the end. And if you’re ever going to _recover_ , you have to be treated like a human.” The giggled escalated, and the Joker hugged himself under the blanket.

“Oh _pah-leeeaase_ sugar, no one thinks I can recover! Just ask the big bad Bat, if you ever see him out soaring. I’m sure he’ll tell you.”

“Maybe not,” Bruce mumbled, looking away. The Joker’s laughing subsided, and he took the time to try and study Bruce a little bit more. The man really was attractive, he understood the hype it seemed the ladies always made about him. Even now, he was sure nurses were lining up outside his cell to get a good look at him. “Look, I just...seeing someone drop like they’re dead like you did, it’s...freaky.”

He stood up, brushed a hand through his hair. “Maybe it just made me want to do something nice for you.” He turned to leave and the Joker threw off his blanket, stood up quickly and reached for him, grabbed him by the wrist.

“You wanna do something nice,” he said, “you can always leave that door unlocked.” He grinned, saw Bruce’s wide eyes, and then sighed. “A _joke_ \- I am the Joker, after all. No one is crazy enough to do _that_. But if you want to do something nice-“ He stopped for a moment, thought on the words he was going to say, and then finally decided _fuck it_ he had _nothing_ to lose, “then come back sometime. It gets lo-...dull, in here.”

He released Bruce, who gave him a smile and a nod, grabbed the empty bag, and was gone just as quickly as he came. The Joker returned to his cot, curled up under the blanket, and breathed in the scent he’d left behind.

No one bothered him until they came to gather him up for a shower. At this point, it was late, he knew- later than usual. He was anxious now- while he had had momentary calm with Bruce’s little visit, he couldn’t forget he still had a task- he’d asked for a visit and it hadn’t come, and without the Riddler to feed him some information _fast_ he had nothing to give the Bat for his upcoming visit that night. And that did not sit well. He didn’t want to lose those visits yet- didn’t want to lose the moments where he was starting to see the seams coming undone. He’d never seen it before, not for such prolonged seconds.

Once he was stripped and left in the cold showers alone, he let himself scowl. Eddie was probably smart enough to _not_ risk breaking _into_ Arkham for him. He had hoped he wasn’t. He’d have to get word out to his few remaining men, get them to turn themselves over to Harley and funnel him any information they could. That would take time- time he didn’t have, currently. It wouldn’t satisfy the Bat, and then he’d have no more reasons for his visits. And, honestly, those visits were making this stay _far_ more pleasant. As it stood, his escape plans were null until he got his footing again.

He heard the doors open, but paid no attention. Guard change, maybe. He ducked under the freezing water, worked it through his hair, until he heard a voice, spoken low as to keep from other hearing, break the silence.

“Joker.”

One word, just his name- but he knew. He turned, opened his eyes and slicked his wet hair back. A nice disguises- that white coat, glasses, orange-red hair slicked back- but his checkered green tie screamed _Riddler_ to him, even if the public would never really know.

“Eddie!” he said, extending his arms, but the man only looked at him. He dropped his arms to his sides with a pout. “Aw, no hug darling?”

“You’re wet. And naked.”

“Has that stopped you before?” He winked, but didn’t get so much as a blush out of the man. _Tough crowd_. “No matter. I thought you weren’t coming.”

“I almost didn’t.” He stepped onto the shower tiles, walked as close as he dared to the Joker and the water jet. “But I figured if you were asking me here so _quickly_ it must be urgent. Something to do with Ivy? Harley?”

The Joker gritted his teeth. “That blonde is good as gutted when I get to her.” He rubbed some of the scentless, rough soap into his hair, watched the colorless suds make their way down his arm. “But yes, it’s about those two. I need everything you know- and now.”

“Why?” The Riddler asked, watching those same suds. “What good is it going to do you? You’re nowhere near escape- or you wouldn’t have bothered asking me _here_.”

“The Bat needs to know?”

That shocked him. Edward stared, slightly wide eyed, before narrowing his eyes.

“Batman? Joker, don’t tell me you’re-“

“Aiding the common enemy?” He grinned. “You, of all people, ought to know I’d do _anything_ for my Bat. I’m feeding him information to shut those two down- nothing more. You’re not in it at all, except as my informative. I won’t send him after you.” He looked back, stared at Eddie into his dark green eyes. “Swear it.”

“Your word is just so trust worthy,” he said, tongue thick was sarcasm, but still, he knew he was going to give him everything. “I hope you’ve got plenty of time left in that shower. It’s going to be in a minute.”

“Don’t worry,” the Joker said, despite the cold beginning to hurt his pale skin, “Just talk.”

His cell waited for him, cold. He nearly dove for his cot, under the blanket Bruce had left him, curled up in it and smelled his cologne and closed his eyes, saw that handsome face. Without realizing it, he began to writhe against the cot, nerves buzzing from the lack-of-attention they’d received recently. He inhaled deeply, buried his face in his pillow-

And snapped back to reality when he heard footsteps along the hallway. And close- he should have heard them sooner. He stopped his movement, cursed himself for falling into such a state so suddenly, and only managed to sit up by the time his door was opening and Batman was walking in. He pulled the blanket tighter around him against the cold of the cell and smiled.

“Ah, Bats, good of you to come back!”

“Do you have any information for me?”

“Business business _business_! All work and no play makes Joker a dull boy!” Batman’s frown stayed, and he sighed. “Yes, fine, I do. Come closer lambchop and we’ll talk.” The vigilante walked over, took up his spot on the cot next to him. “Ivy’s got a few ins at the theater. She’s seduced one of the security guards, paid off one of the performers, and has a few lower employees under her payroll as well. I can give you names, if you want them.”

“How did you get all this so quickly?”

“A very devoted friend.” Batman opened his mouth, but the Joker just shook his head. “Shhh cupcake, I already told you, you won’t get a word outta me on him. I’m a man of my word.” He grinned. “So Ivy is going to get her toxin in through one or all of these contacts. She also has Harley masquerading as one of the Judges attending’s date. She’ll be inside to make sure there are no...kinks.” Batman nodded, and the Joker flicked his tongue out, licked his naked lips, allowed himself one quick sweep of the eyes down that suited body. “Also, she has a decent amount of man power behind her. Nearly all of my men left with Harley. I wouldn’t doubt she’ll be planting plenty of them inside as well.”

“You’ve...really helped,” Batman admitted, staring at the Joker. The man just shrugged a shoulder, pulled the blanket tighter around him. Batman watched the motion, the way those long fingers clutched at it, and the Joker didn’t fail to notice.

“A little gift,” he said, “Apparently I’ve made another friend. You might want to look into Gotham’s socialites as well- a Mr. Bruce Wayne seems to have a soft spot for me.”

“Wayne’s not a bad guy,” Batman said, and the Joker giggled.

“I’m not sayin’ he is, Batsy baby. He was rather the Prince Charming, I _have_ to say.” He let the blanket fall down his shoulders, tiled his head and showed the expanse of his pale neck. When Batman’s eyes moved over it, his heart skipped a beat. “He seemed rather... _worried_ about me.”

“I heard you passed out.”

“Yeah, not eating does that to you. Well, Brucie boy went and brought me this to keep me warm, even brought in some food. Actually...how about you _don’t_ look into him? I rather like him coming around. It gets lonely when you’re not here, darling.” He reached out, and Batman for a moment thought that hand was going for his thigh-

Instead it took his hand, tangled their fingers together. Batman went to open his mouth, and the Joker shook his head. “Just give a little, Bats. I’m not askin’ for much.”

He nodded, saw a smile creep up on those lips. Something genuine, and suddenly he was reaching over, turning, brushing some of the wet curls from the man’s face, watching those green eyes, too green, acidic and fire and enough to melt his Kevlar.

“I’ll miss you, when you stop visiting,” the Joker said- a whisper, if that was believable- his voice something soft, different. Batman wasn’t sure he’d ever heard it like this before. “Which I know is now.”

“But you’ll break out.” It was a fact, yes, but it sounded hopeful- and the Joker was giggling.

“Eventually. A lot of changes, ah, happenin’, sugar. Plans have to change, get reworked. I’ll come looking for you first.” He pulled his hand free, reached out and traced along Batman’s jawline with his frigid fingers, his thumb sweeping over his lip. Breath caught in the vigilante’s throat, and the Joker watched the turmoil in those dark eyes. For a moment, just a moment, there was something reflected there, the skipping heart beats and excitement and blood rushes that the Joker felt himself-

Batman twirled one of those curls, then was pulling away, standing up. “I’ll keep in mind how you helped,” he said, and the Joker reached for his blanket, pulling it up over his shoulders as they slumped. For the moment, his fight was gone.

“Sure, Bats,” he said, and watched the man leave him once again alone in the dark chill of his cell.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning, sexual abuse. Don't want anyone to end up damaged because of this :(

When the Joker awoke, it was to the sounds of the locks on his cell opening. Two large guards came in, pulling him from his cot just as he pushed himself up. He tried to jerk away, felt a knee to his stomach, and lost his breath.

“Careful clown,” one said as they nearly dragged him towards the door, slapping handcuffs too tightly on his wrists. “The boss said we can be as rough as we need to be.”

The Joker held his tongue and let them jostle him through the hallways. They made it to Dr. Shepard’s office, and the door was thrown open, the Joker shoved inside unceremoniously. He sprawled on the floor, groaned at the impact, and looked up, saw Dr. Shepard standing up, walking around his desk. He heard the door lock _click_. Apparently, the guards would be staying again.

“You’re already giving me headaches,” Dr. Shepard said, looking down at the Joker. The man glared up through his green curls and blonde lashes.

“And, do tell Doc, how am I doing _that_?”

“By dragging Wayne into my asylum.” _My asylum? My my my, someone has an ego._ “He’s a nuisance. His money is too good to jusy disregard him, but I can’t have him poking and prodding around.”

“Considering he’s, ah, the one paying for so much of this _lovely_ establishment, I’d say he’s got a ri-ght to.” The Joker grinned, before Dr. Shepard kicked him in the side and made him gasp.

“No! He needs to just come once a month for those stupid board meetings, meet with the other bored rich folk, agree on trivial things, and be done. _That’s_ his part in this, _that’s_ his right.” He kicked him again, with enough force that the Joker went with it and rolled onto his back. “But his...obsession with you, it complicates things.”

“Obsession?” The Joker laughed. “I’m _flat-tered_ Doc, but that pretty boy isn’t obsessed with me! Obsession is-“

“Oh shut up.” He kicked him again, this time was met with a fit of giggles. He gritted his teeth, motioned to the guards, and they rushed over, hoisting the Joker up to his knees, one shoving a cloth into his mouth and tying it around his head, muffling his laughter. “I’m not interested in hearing your babbling, frankly. I’ll never understand why so many doctors gave you the chance to talk, why they were so obsessed with whatever you had to say.” He reached down, grabbed the Joker by the chin and jerked his face upwards. “Why _anyone_ is interested in what you have to say. As if there’s some genius behind your sanity. Well.” His grip tightened painfully, and he crouched down, looking him right in his eyes. “I know better than that.”

He punched him then, right in his jaw, enough force to snap his head back but not knock him down. He was used to being punched by Batman, and even if this man had some force behind him, there was no comparison.

“Luke,” he said, looking at one of the guards, “outside, please. By the door- no one is to come in until I say so.” The man nodded and did as he was told, while the other man hoisted the Joker up, made him stand as the Joker delivered a punch to his gut.

“Like I said before, if you’re bad, we’re going to punish you. And you were _bad_.” The guard stepped aside as Shepard upper cutted his gut, made him lose his breath and stumble back, then shoved him down onto the little couch. The guard was there, taking his cuffed hands and pulling them over his head, holding tight so he couldn’t fight back. He trashed, was ready to throw his legs up and bend into himself to kick at the guard, but Shepard was there, a needle in his hand.

“It’s almost over,” he said, tapping it with his fingers. “You see, this is going to feel like there is acid in your veins. There’s enough here to burn you for a good hour, maybe two. A minor dose- a warning. Get Wayne to go the fuck away. Whatever you’re doing to entice him, _stop_. Stop, and this will stop.”

He jabbed the needle into his thigh, and it was like lightning was crackling up his body and pulling every nerve out of his body. His eyes rolled back and he screamed, despite the gag.

When the drug was finally wearing off, he was strewn out on his cot, clothes rumpled, hair a disaster. The guards had carried him back thrashing and thrown him in there to wait out the drug. The hour had been a blur of fire and something trying to erupt from under his skin, in his veins, but it was ebbing now and he could think. He could grit his teeth and imagine gutting that doctor-

It’d be the first stop on his escape tour.

He pushed himself up and stretched, tested the aches. His muscle felt like they had all been pulled loose, but he didn’t burn now. He collapsed back down, nestled into the blanket Bruce had left, and was just picturing Shepard’s gut opening wide for him to pull out his smiling intestines, when the locks on his door began to move. He tensed, braced himself. He wouldn’t go easily again, not this time. He ahd more fight than that- he didn’t get to be feared by letting oversized dogs drag him around like a bone to their master.

When he looked up, it was only Bruce standing there, straightening his jacket as the door closed. The Joker eyed him for a moment, but didn’t get up.

“I was expecting a slightly warmer welcome,” Bruce admitted, walking towards him. He stopped when he could see him clearly- saw a large bruise forming where his shirt was riding up his side, his overall disheveled look. “What happened?”

“Good old fashioned Arkham medicine,” the Joker said, forcing himself up. He cracked his neck, pushed his curls back. “Don’t think anything of it, _Prince Charming_.”

Bruce was frowning. “Who did it to you?” The Joker clicked his tongue. _Listens so well, this one._ “Joker, tell me.”

“Latest doctor,” he said with a sigh, “Dr. Shepard. He appeared out of nowhere, replaced Dr. Hill. Shame, too, I rather liked good old Dr. Hill. This no one isn’t such a fan.” He stood up, reached out and played with Bruce’s tie- this time a dark rosy color. “I like these colors on you, doll. You wear a lot of black.” _I must just have a thing for men in black._

“This is serious,” Bruce said, ignoring him, “He can’t treat a patient like that. You’re here for _help_.” The Joker started laughing, wrapping one arm around himself to steady and pressed into his forming bruises, ending the fit with a strianed gasp. His grin quickly turned into a frown.

“No one believes that I can be helped,” he said, his voice slipping low- to a dangerous tone. He forced a smile, a bitter one. “He’s just admitting it.”

“Everyone can be helped.” Bruce reached down for the hand that was clutching the Joker’s side, took it and twisted their fingers together. “Some just take a little extra work.”

The Joker stared at him, a slight tilt to his head as he rolled the words over in his mind. He stared into Bruce’s near black eyes, waited for them to flinch, for him to look away- but he didn’t. Only person who could ever stare him in the eyes this long was Batman- and Bruce’s eyes gave him the same sort of thrill the Bat’s did.

Before he even knew what he was doing, the Joker was leaning in, reaching up and gripping Bruce by the lapel of his jacket, pressing his swollen lips to Bruce’s. The man froze up- went tense, rigid, and reached for the Joker, fisting one hand in his shirt, the other resting on his shoulder, poised to push him back. But when his lips moved it was almost sweet, they were softer than they looked, and Bruce’s hand moved from his shoulder to behind his neck, fingers slipping into his hair as he kissed back.

The Joker forgot to breathe for a moment, had expected to be thrown back. This, however, was a much sweeter outcome, and he slipped his hand beneath that jacket, ran it up and down Bruce’s chest as he flicked his tongue against Bruce’s lips. Bruce groaned- and that was the chance he wanted. He darted his tongue into his mouth, teased Bruce’s to life, tasted mint and some sort of buried desire that he could feel making its way to the surface.

Bruce was moving him suddenly, breaking the kiss to shove him down onto the cot. The Joker raised an eyebrow, watched, waited for him to have a meltdown, to try to talk his way out of reacting the way he did. Instead, Bruce crawled between his legs and traced his fingers up along the Joker’s face, into his hair, and tipped his head back to kiss him again. He delved deep, made the Joker whimper- something neither had anticipated- and Bruce pushed his body down against him when he heard it, needing contact.

The Joker clutched at his jacket, tried to push it away from him. Bruce broke the kiss, trying to catch his breath, and his cheeks tinged pink.

“Probably shouldn’t undress me,” he mumbled, and the Joker was giggling.

“Then you’re a tease.” Still, he smiled, and Bruce smiled back, leaning off him, settling down next to him. He traced his hand down the Joker’s side, slipped it beneath his shirt to rest against his bruises, unmoving. “I’ll make him pay for these.”

“Best not,” he said, enjoying the feeling of those fingertips. “He doesn’t like you, sweetheart. Doesn’t like that you seem to _li-ke_ me.” Bruce frowned.

“What did he say?”

“Said he thinks you’re poking around where you shouldn’t. He wants you to be, ah, mindless like the rest of your rich friends. He doesn’t like that you’re interested in me- means he’s got to be sneaky with whatever games he wants to play with me.” He rested his hand on Bruce’s thigh, squeezed it gently. “And I can tell, darlin’, he wants to play _hard_.”

Bruce traced the Joker’s knuckles, fingers dancing up his arm. “I’ll take care of him. Just make him think I won’t be back, he’ll leave you be, and I’ll shut him down. Get him removed. Get his liscence revoked.”

“Defensive,” the Joker purred, leaning over, “I _like_ it. But, ah, if you want this to be convincing, you should get back to your pumpkin, Cinderella.” Bruce gave him a little sly smile and leaned over, kissing his cheek. His lips brushed a line of scars and the Joker felt his blood jump to life, and he bit his tongue to stifle a groan. Yes, Bruce had better leave or it wouldn’t matter that he didn’t think he should be undressed- he was too pretty to resist for very long.

The Joker watched him go, snickered to himself that he was pleasant to watch leave. When he was again in solitude he stretched out, closed his eyes, had to wonder how his Bat would react to all this if he knew. Would he be angry at the Joker for attempting to seduce an innocent- _if_ Wayne could be called that- would he be jealous?

He shivered. Oh, he hoped his Bat would be jealous. Very, _very_ jealous.

He forced himself to eat that night- and despite fighting down the nausea that came with Arkham food, he kept it down, only because it would make Bruce happy. Because his smile made his face sort of cute. He was thankful for the late night, freezing showers for once, because his body was raging from that kiss, and the water gave him something almost painful to focus on. When it splashed his bruises it stung, and he bit his swollen lip and bled at one point because he didn’t dare utter a sound. He had an image, he had to remind himself. Had to keep the fear beneath his fingertips.

The guard escorting him back to his cell was preoccupied, and stopped at the nurses’ station, leaned against the counter to talk to a blonde nurse who twirled her hair and giggled at him. The Joker took the time to make eye contact with his familiar face, his nameless contact, and she walked over without needing much encouragement.

“Need something?” she asked, much more excited than she had been. Probably happy about her refreshed supply of coke. He could see it in her eyes, she had probably done some on her lunch, and it was just fading now, when he knew her shift was ending within the hour.

“As a matter of fact, I do,” he said with a smile. “Two things. A message to my men to be on stand-by, I’ll be sending them instructions soon for my escape. And another to my lovely friend the Riddler, thanking him for his support.” He grinned. “Oh, and let him know I’ll be stopping by soon.”

“Sure thing, Mr. J,” she said, tapping her pen, and his smile disappeared instantly.

“Don’t call me that,” he said, gritting his teeth, “the last girl who called me that is getting gutted when I get out of here.”

She clamped her mouth shut and only nodded, before scurrying away quickly, afraid.

When the Joker lay down that evening, he could ignore the aches in his body, the cold around him. He could ignore the springs digging into him, instead focus on the smell of Bruce’s cologne- renewed when he had crawled onto the cot with him earlier- remember the texture of his lips. He pressed his face into the blanket and closed his eyes, wondered what it would have looked like if he’d gotten beneath Wayne’s clothes, all the while his hand pressing into his flimsy pants, grasping himself tightly and stroking in a way he imagined Bruce might.

He tried to ignore, when he gave a muffled cry into the blanket, that it was the first time in a _long_ time anyone’s memory but Batman’s had brought him to such weakness. He tried to ignore that fact that he had only thought of the Bat when Bruce was there to wonder if he’d be jealous. He wasn’t the shadow he’d been over every other person the Joker had fucked and teased, that entity that really had his attention no matter the doll he played with-

He’d been a passing thought, and then gone.

When his door opened, it was early. He heard the locks and opened his eyes, strained against the dark, heard the wet footsteps of men walking into his room. As his eyes adjusted, he saw two guards, followed by Dr. Shepard.

“He came to see you again,” he said, and the Joker sat up.

“Morning to you too,” he said, eyeing his wet shoes, hating the way they squeaked when he moved. “And I refused his second date, so no worries _doc_.”

Shepard said nothing, just walked over to his bed, bent over and pulled out the remaining box of granola bars Bruce had left him. Honestly, he’d been pretty happy to have some sort of food to get rid of the taste of Arkham.

“Toss these,” he said, throwing them to a guard. “Mr. Wayne never should have been able to get anything to the patient. It’s against policy. I’m shocked his money bought him that privilege.” He looked down at the Joker, and then reached out, grabbed the blanket and jerked it away. The Joker reached for it, his scarred hands just missing it as the doctor flung it to the other guard. “And burn that.”

The Joker glared, launched out of his cot at the guard, tackling him to the floor. He grabbed his head and smashed it into the floor, once, twice, three times, heard the satisfyingly sick crack of bone, saw the dark splatter of blood and brian matter and did it one more time _just to be safe_.

_Good night, Luke. Should have found a nicer master- or a softer bone._

The other guard was calling for reinforcements, but Shepard was just shaking his head, walking over, pulling something from his pocket. The Joker failed to notice as he gathered up the blanket, the one thing that gave him comfort in this hell- that fought of the years of cold-

He felt the syringe jab into the crook of his neck, and a moment later the world was cold and black.

When he came to again, he was strapped down to cold metal- a small table. He tugged, but his muscles felt heavy and he was secured enough he could barely lift his wrists two inches.

“Good, you’re awake. I was afraid you might sleep through the fun.” Dr Shepard leaned over him, smiling, and reached a gloved hand to his face, brushed his curls from his eyes. The Joker opened his mouth to speak, but his tongue was heavy, dead, and he couldn’t work his throat muscles. “Oh, you’re still coming out of it. Heavy sedative- enough to knock out a horse, really. You’re small, but you’ve got quite the tolerance. See, I’ve read your file. _Every_ file. And I know all about you.”

He tapped his fingers on the Joker’s chest, and he realized he was feeling latex on skin- metal on skin, air on skin. _He was naked_. He managed to swallow, and Shepard kept smiling.

“I know more about what makes you tick than any doctor that’s ever treated you,” he said, “and that’s why I know there’s no fixing you. Not properly. No, but see, I can fix you- if I can break you.” He drummed his finger lower, onto his stomach. “So we’re going to play a little game, Joker. And in the end, you’re going to be a numb, broken man, without a desire or drive in the world. Not even the Batman will get a rise out of you.”

Shepard turned to a small cart, lifted a syringe, tapped it, then shoved it into his thigh. In an instant he was on fire and he gave a strangled cry. Shepard was laughing.

“Everything will hurt from here on out,” he mused, “so get used to it. And don’t worry, we’re in the basements, no one will hear you. I’ve made sure you won’t be missed- on papers, I’ve moved you into special solitary confinement, because of your outburst. You killed him, you know. Luke. He was a good man, dedicated to whatever I told him to do. Mindless, but good.”

Another needle, and his scream ripped from his throat as every nerve in his body lit to _pain_. Shepard chuckled. “You know, this stuff is illegal,” he mused, setting the needle aside. “Recipe is from a friend of yours, a pioneer in fear. I had to go through quite a few hurdles to get it, but when I finally got to him and told him _who_ it was for, he was more than willing to give me an ample supply. If I keep injecting you,” he said, lifting a third needle, “the pain will lead to hallucinations. Your worst nightmares. Better yet, over a prolonged period, it will cause permanent damage to your nerves, so you’ll _always_ burn.” He jabbed the needle in, “just like the monster you are.”

There was no scream now, just a convulsion, and the Joker couldn’t process the world around him. His senses imploded, burst inside him and he could see it all leaking out. He could feel the bump of each heartbeat, smell the spots in the air, wasn’t sure what was up and what was down. It didn’t matter, though, nothing mattered because the world was fuzzy and smelled like acid and greasepaint. When he exhaled it was like there was a red screen over his eyes, fogging his vision.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Shepard said, fingers drumming on his thighs now, “that you’re immune to fear toxin, because of your Joker venom. Well, with all these new recipes for it, it seems there’s finally been a dose that gets to even you.” He reached out, grasped his sex suddenly, and the Joker choked. “I wonder what you’re seeing now. It doesn’t matter, really. It’s not going anywhere, and nether is the pain. You’ve got enough in your system to leave you in agony all day long.” He stroked, his fist tight, hurting. “I’m going to make you hate _everything_. You’re going to relate everything to this pain, this fear. You won’t even be able to fuck without screaming in agony.”

The Joker was vaguely aware of the man touching him unpleasantly, of latex covered fingers probing where they shouldn’t, but all he was seeing was that red hood, smelling acid, and seeing it bubble around him. He strained against the restraints, tried to growl, to say something, but nearly choked on his own breath. His body tensed, and suddenly he was impaled, his head jerking back as he screamed again and the agony washed over in one acidic wave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a horrible person for this v_____v


	6. Chapter 6

It was a blur. The agony, the feeling of violation, the sounds of voices, the feeling of Shepard being _gone_. The drugs began to wear off towards the evening, but then he was there, looming, another needle, and he was reduced to screams as Shepard laughed. He wasn’t sure what kept the doctor from staying, but in a blur he’d seen metal- a scalpel, maybe- in his hand, poised, ready to dissect the Joker while he was alive and writing in agony, but he was called away. The only words that he understood were, “Later. There will be time later.”

Shepard hooked an IV to his arm, a slow drip of the poison into his bloated veins. The promise of anguish all night. Lost in delirium, the Joker dreamed of blinding white bursting from veins, clawing up through his skin and gnawing at his flesh until he was eaten alive, the white turning to acid, to green, and a hand dangling high above him, grasping but never reaching.

The doors burst open nearing two AM, sounded like thunder and the Joker cried out, thinking the metal vat was closing in on him, sealing him in airlessly. He heard words, muffled, felt a hand on his arm- gloved, but not latex. The IV was pulled from his arm, but the fire remained. Even when his restrains were loosened, pulled away, his muscles felt as if they were being pulled from his bone. He tried to curl up on himself, but those gloved hands were reaching for him, lifting him, holding him against a body- a body with sharp corners that bit into his skin. He squirmed, heard someone whispering into his hair, “I’ve got you.”

He relaxed, let the shadow cradle him. They were moving, but he wasn’t sure where, couldn’t see. Opening his eyes hurt, like someone was pouring peroxide in them, so he kept them squeezed shut. Swimming, he thought they were, through the pools and pools of endless chemicals, through the acid and the sickness and the death. Swimming to a shore he couldn’t see.

No shore, but a boat! A ship, a war ship! This shadow lifted him against the waves, pushed him into it, before climbing in the other side, pulling away from this dreaded prison island- this Alcatraz situated in the center of the Bermuda triangle, yes yes yes! As the ship fought the waves he tried to open his eyes again,but the fog was still settled on the red hood, pressing into his eyes. He turned, saw the shadow was not just a shadow, but a beast, a gargoyle from the depths of the acid itself, and a scream strangled in his throat, and then the world was dark again.

When he came to again, he was being settled down on a metal table. It was cold, familiar, and he expected the sting of another venomous needle. He tensed, thrashed, until he saw a hand reaching down for him, reaching and reaching and reaching-

Grasping his, entwining fingers, and a voice was mumbling down to him. He couldn’t understand the words, but the tone was enough. Enough for him to close his eyes and accept this round of darkness.

When his eyes next opened he saw darkness, the faint glow of computer screens in the distance. There was no ocean, no chemical smell, just dimness and a dull ache in his body. He reached up, pressed the heels of his hands into his eyes, before brushing his hair back. The movement was enough, and suddenly there was a shadow emerging from the dark, coming towards him. When the cowl became a shape, the Joker licked his lips and spoke in a hoarse voice.

“Batsss.” His throat was raw, and as he shifted, he ached between his legs. He pushed himself up on his elbows, saw he was wrapped up in a sheet, but otherwise naked. “Don’t tell me I, ah, missed our first fuck, lambchop.” He grinned, and Batman reached out, tipped his chin up gingerly.

“I found you naked and strapped to a table,” he said, “in the basement of Arkham. Any idea how you got there?”

He licked his lips again, before his grin fell away. “Yeah. His name is Shepard, and he’s a dead man. I guess that means I’m _not_ in the oh-so lovely five star Arkham?” He sat up fully, looked around, before his grin came back. “Oh Bats! Is this your little _cave_? How quaint! Why, had I known you’d be taking me home, I’d have worn something more fetching!” He let the sheet fall down his torso, to pool around his waist, and looked up through heavy blonde lashes. “But then again, what’s more fetching then flesh and scars?”

He felt more than saw those black eyes roaming over him, and he smirked. When they returned to his own though, they were serious.

“What do you remember? You were in a sorry state, Joker.” For the second time, that grin disappeared, replaced now by a scowl.

“Needles,” he said, “Burning, acid. Drowning in it, unable to see. The ocean, or something.” He tapped his chin. “Hallucinations...wait...yes, yes that’s it! The drug, it made me hallucinate, good ole Doc Shepard said it would. Made me...” He trailed off, and Batman leaned closer.

“Made you what?”

“Made me see what I fear.” His eyes wavered for a moment, and he hoped the Bat didn’t see it. “And you know who deals in fear.”

“You’re immune to Scarecrow’s drugs,” Batman said, reaching up to stroke his gauntletted fingers through those grin curls. The Joker’s lids fell half closed as he nearly purred.

“Not this,” he said, “New stuff. Shepard said something about it. Makes you feel like you’ve got acid in your blood. Makes you hallucinate. On it long enough, and it never goes away. Nasty.” Batman’s other hand reached up, traced his jawline, and the Joker captured it in his hands, pressed a kiss to the palm. “So, why rescue me, sugar? I thought a princess was only allowed one Prince Charming.”

“I went to your cell,” he said, “to let you know how it went with Ivy. You weren’t there. That doctor didn’t cover his tracks well. And I couldn’t...couldn’t leave you there.”

“So, under all this sharp armor, you’re a big softy?” The Joker giggled. “Oh darling, how about some sugar to celebrate you _finding_ yourself!” Batman’s mouth stayed a solid line, and the Joker just rolled his eyes. “Oh forget it, you prude. How did it go with miss Ivy and her two-tone love fool?”

“Too easy,” he said, “Ivy was never there, and Harley fled well before anything began. No one even knew there was an incident.”

“So call it a good night,” the clown said, “call it a better night if you crawl down here with me.”

“You’re in no shape,” Batman simply said, “he-“

“ _Don’t say it!_ ” Those eyes flashed a dangerous color, a rapid static sort of green that froze the blood in the vigilante’s veins. The Joker was glaring, teeth nearly bared. “Don’t say it. I know what he did. My mind is clearer under drugs than your’s will ever by Batboy. You forget how painfully _sane_ and aware I am.”

“You’re not sane,” Batman said, “you’re crazy.”

“Don’t. I. Wish.” The Joker tugged away from him, looked around the room. “I’m exhausted, Bats, and considering you just broke me _out_ of Arkham, I highly doubt you’ll be putting me back. So, have you go something more comfortable than this mortuary table for me to lay on? A girl needs her beauty sleep.” The last line was meant to be a joke, his typically sassy quip, but it came out flat, angry. Batman stepped back, gestured to a small couch, with a blanket on it.

“Had it set up for you,” he admitted, and the Joker slipped off the table, held the blanket around him, and made his way over, crawling onto it and nestling in. “Don’t think of touching anything, it’s all locked down. The whole cave is- no one can get in except me, but you can’t leave.”

“Yeah yeah yeah, fine Bats,” he said, “One prison for another, really. Just tell me one thing.” He ran his fingers over the hem of the blanket. “My cell, was there anything in there?”

“An empty cot,” Batman said, “no clothes, no blankets, not a trace of life.”

The Joker frowned, looked away, before closing his eyes and mumbling a good-night. Batman hesitated, looked as if he was about to walk over, to reach out and touch those curls again, but in the last moment he turned, left the man alone in this new dark to escape up to his own room- to his other world, to sleep for a few hours.

In his dreams, he was swimming again- no, not swimming. Drowning. This time the hood wasn’t a vision, he could feel it, reach his hands up and try to tug it off, but it seemed stuck. He opened his mouth to scream and the acid ran down his throat, into his lungs and belly, filled him to the core. He choked, was sure he was dying but it was slow coming. He could feel the cold, bony fingers of death on his ankles, tracing up to his knees, but so far from his neck, from his hooded eyes.

He thrashed, tried to swim, to find the surface. Up was down and down _was still down_ and there was nothing. His skin burned and burned and _burned_ and he reached above him, up, grasping for anything in the liquid. His fingertips brushed something, and a moment later someone was grasping his wrist, pulling him from the liquid. He was yanked into the air and opened his mouth, found air as it leaked under his hood and choked on it, coughed up bile as he crawled along the metal under him. He heard someone moving, felt hands on his hood, and suddenly it was lifting with easy- for any hands but his.

No, no not any hands. _Only his_. Dark eyes stared back, a warm dark, the kind that helped you sleep at night in the dead of winter. The kind that set your core on fire and let the warmth sizzle up to the surface of your flesh. Bruce was smiling at him, reaching out and brushing wet curls from his face.

He reached out, pulled the Joker to him, pressed him into his chest and held him, despite his expensive suit and the fact that the Joker was coated in chemicals of lord knows how large a variety. He stroked his curls and the Joker could hear the steady pounding of his heart, knocking against his ribs gently, lulling him into a placid state. “It’s okay,” Bruce whispered, “I’ve got you.”

The Joker’s eyes snapped open when he felt a hand on his. He looked up, saw a masked face, and relaxed, remembering where he was.

“You were thrashing.”

“Bad dream,” the Joker said, sitting up. “Don’t you ever take that thing off? Don’t tell me you, ah, sleep in it.” Batman reached up, touched his mask.

“Usually I don’t have company during the day,” he said, “so it’s weird for me too to have it on.”

“What time is it, anyway?”

“Almost noon.” Batman walked away, towards his computer screens, and the Joker stood up, holding the blanket around his waist. Batman looked back once, saw his tussled curls and that lean, lithe body exposed so easily, and thought he could have been some sort of parody of Greek art. He averted his eyes as the Joker made his way over, but the man saw it, brought a little smile to his lips.

“Care to show me your toys?” he asked, gesturing to one of the screens, but Batman just shook his head. The Joker pouted, leaned a hip against the counter. “Well then, if you’re not going to share, I think it’s time I just go home.”

Batman’s head snapped over to look at him. “You want to _leave_?”

“Don’t see a reason to stay if you’re just going to brood.” He traced his fingers along a few keys on a keyboard, so light he didn’t press them in the slightest. “Did you want me to stay, Bats?”

“I...I just...” he could see color rising on Batman’s cheeks, a sweet rosy tinge. “Isn’t this what you’ve wanted? You’re in the Batcave...alone with me.”

“And you’re in no mood to play, as always.” He reached up, twirled some of his hair.

“Has that ever stopped you?”

“Maybe I’m not in the mood for rejection, Batman.” Batman cringed a little at the use of his full _name_ , but said nothing, just looked back at the screen he wanted to bare his eyes into. “Look, if you can get me some clothes, I’ll be out of your hair. I can’t walk around in a blanket all day.”

“Where will you go?”

“I’ve got someone I need to find,” the Joker admitted, looking down. “Someone I need to see.” Batman straightened up, turned towards him and reached out, running his hand up his arm. The Joker’s eyelids fluttered at the feeling, wished that damn glove wasn’t in the way.

“Who?” Batman asked, moving closer, his other hand reaching up, tracing a scar, dipping into those messy curls. “Who could be more important to you than me?”

The Joker felt something crack in his chest, told himself this all had to be the drugs still. He wasn’t right, didn’t feel right, didn’t feel like _himself_.

“I want to see Bruce,” he said, even as he turned and nuzzled into that hand. “I need to see him.”

“What can Wayne do for you,” Batman asked, leaning closer, “that I can’t?”

The Joker forgot how to breathe, stared into dark, endless black, and realized he was shaking. He hated himself then, hated Batman for doing this to him. Hated him with every fiber in his body because he’d _wanted_ him so long, played the game and chased and chased and chased, begged and offered, and had gotten nothing. And now, now when he had something else to cling to, here he was, seeming to offer the one thing the Joker had always wanted.

Him.

“Just let me go,” he finally said, the words quiet, not sounding like himself. Batman stared for a moment, before he released him, stepped back with his hands up.

“I’ll find you something to wear,” he said, turning and disappearing in a flutter of his cape, and the Joker wanted to scream until his throat was raw and bled for him to _please come back_.


	7. Chapter 7

The clothes Batman had given him fit oddly...well. As if he had measured the Joker in his sleep and made sure to have clothing on hand. They couldn’t compare to his suit, but fitted jeans and a simple snug black t-shirt were better than being naked, better than the tissue paper he wore at Arkham. Had he worn them for any other reason, he’d ditch them as soon as he could once he got something more _fitting_ , but they had come from Batman. He didn’t think he’d be getting rid of them.

He wore a blindfold when they left the Batcave. He kept his hands in his lap and didn’t bother to try and see where they were, how they got there, because he almost didn’t care. He’d never get in without Batman’s help, he was resigned to that.

“If you time it correctly, you can get past security,” Batman said, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. “Wait a good ninety minutes. Wayne will come out of the building for a brief walk, to get some air. You can get him then. Don’t do anything stupid.”

The Batmobile pulled to a stop, and the Joker reached up, pulling the blindfold off. They were in an ally, but that couldn’t disguise that it was broad daylight. It felt...funny.

“Thanks for the ride,” the Joker said, looking over at him, “and for the break out.”

“I’ll be seeing you soon.” The Joker chuckled at that, then slipped out of the car, watched it disappear.

Part of him had been worried about being recognized on the streets. He was weaponless, without so much as a pocketknife, no way to fight off the cops if they found him and tried to get him back to Arkham. By now, they must have issued a statement on his escape, and they would be looking. Shepard would be pissed. He needed to get his act together, get somewhere secure and lay low for a bit, get his act together. He had to deal with Harley, still. She couldn’t go unpunished.

And he would take his time punishing Shepard.

Without his make up and signature suit, he blended in rather well. No one bothered to look at his face, and he managed to make it to Wayne Enterprises without anyone so much as batting an eye. He took his time, waited, and just as Batman had said, Bruce Wayne stepped outside about ninety minutes later, phone in hand as he strolled down the streets. The Joker walked quickly to get behind him, kept two people back until he rounded the corner and the crowds thinned. He took a deep breath, and knew it was now or never.

“Bruce,” he said, reaching out, placing a hand on his shoulder. Bruce turned, and his dark eyes widened. He pulled his phone form his ear, stuffed it into his pocket, and just stared.

“Joker?” he whispered, looking around to make sure no one was listening. “How did you-“

“It’s a long story,” he said, reaching out to play with his tie. “A long, batty story. One I don’t want to get into here. I just, ah...I wanted to see you.” He looked away for a moment, and Bruce reached out, took his hand.

“Let’s go somewhere more private,” he said, eyes darting around. “It’s not...safe here.” The Joker didn’t argue, let Bruce take his hand and followed him back into Wayne Enterprises.

Once locked securely in Bruce’s overly spacious office, the Joker sat down on the corner of his desk as Bruce took a seat.

“How did you get out?” he asked again, and the Joker sighed.

“Batman gave me a lift,” he admitted, “I’ve been helping him with something.” Bruce laughed.

“That seems...unlike you. The media would have a field day with that.” The Joker’s smile turned to a frown.

“Keep this quiet,” he said, “for Bats’ sake.”

“I thought you hated him?”

“Hate him?” The Joker laughed. “Brucie, don’t believe the media. They twist things. I don’t hate Batman. No really. Sure, at times, but no...no this isn’t hate. It’s something far greater.” He leaned his elbows on his thighs, his chin in his palms. “But enough of Bats and I. I need you to do something for me, sugar.”

“And what’s that?”

“Dr. Shepard. I want him exposed for the crackpot he is.” Bruce drummed his fingers on his desk, and something flashed in his eyes. Some sort of hate, even though he asked quietly what the doctor had done. The Joker scrunched his face up in a second as he considered sugar coating it, but then decided against it and spilled the entire story, what he had told Batman, and pieces that had sense floated back to him. In the end, Bruce had moved his chair close, had one arm around his hips and the other hand drumming on his thigh.

His eyes. They’d gone from cool, dark pools, a sort of blue-black, to something raging, a fire. A familar, angry fire that the Joker wanted to lap up and let burn inside his belly.

“He’ll rot in prison,” Bruce said. “Imagine how many other patients he’s probably tortured. With you gone, he’s probably looking for a new target.”

“I wouldn’t doubt it,” the Joker said, “though I don’t think he’ll get as...personal with any other patient. He’s got something personal against me.” Bruce’s arm tightened around him and he slipped between his legs, looking up at him.

“Do you...” He paused, trying to find the words, “Do you need to...to see someone to talk to? A doctor or...”

“Please,” the Joker said with a laugh, “I’ve seen _countless_ therapists in my life. They don’t help. Besides cupcake, anyone who sees me is calling the cops and sending me _back_ to Arkham.”

“I could buy their silence,” Bruce said, and the Joker’s grin softened. He reached down, ran his fingers along Bruce’s jawline.

“Little Prince Charming still,” he teased, “You’re sweet, Bruce, really. But I don’t need help dealing with what that monster did.”

His green eyes stayed placid, until that very last second when the color jumped to a grainy, static color, the kind of mask one puts up when you just don’t want anyone to dig. The connection is bad, move on, you won’t find anything here. It was gone in a fleeting millisecond, and Bruce didn’t pry, just let the Joker tip his face up and lean down, kissing him oddly gently.

The Joker knew what Bruce did was against his better judgement, but still, he didn’t argue to the playboy taking him home. Just one night, he was telling himself. One night here to recover, and then he could get to business.

Wayne Manor put Cinderella's Prince Charming’s castle to shame, if you asked the Joker. He followed Bruce inside and through the spacious rooms, up a flight of stairs of a rich, polished wood that made the whole place _feel like home_. Bruce’s bedroom really needed the term _chambers_ , and the Joker didn’t hesitate to rush over to the high bed and flop down on it with a sigh. Bruce chuckled and walked over, crawling onto it and laying on his stomach, tracing a finger along the Joker’s navel, where his shirt had rode up.

“I was right about you being _Prince_ Charming,” he said with a laugh, looking up at the canopy of sheer white fabric over the bed. “This impress the ladies?”

“Every time.” They both laughed, and the Joker reached down, twisted his fingers into Bruce’s. He couldn’t explain this- this feeling of just lying here with him, seemingly _normal_ , but it was calming, soothing. Made him forget that this time the next day he’d be across Gotham in the slums, gathering up men and gunpowder and gasoline and planning the best ways to make Harley and Shepard _squirm_.

The Joker felt the bed shift, saw a flutter of movement, before he felt Bruce’s soft lips on his navel, trailing down along exposed skin until lips met denim. The Joker choked on his breath, tipped his head back, releasing Bruce’s hand and reaching out, grasping the side of his jacket.

“Careful,” he warned, “You touch me and it’s like a thousand nerves explode. I’m _beyond_ sensitive, pretty boy.”

“Maybe I like that,” Bruce said, looking up with a smug smile. The Joker pushed himself up onto his elbows and memorized that face, smiling back. His lips parted, ready to urge Bruce on ward, when suddenly the doors to Bruce’s room opened and a man walked in, older, in a nice, pressed black suit.

“Master Wayne,” he said, before his eyes took in the two figures on the bed, and he froze. His eyes widened, and the Joker knew he was recognized, but the man ws quick to recover. “I...apologize sir. I didn’t know you had...company.”

Bruce moved off the Joker and stood up, swiping a hand back through his hair.

“What is it, Alfred?”

“I...you should turn on the news, sir.” He turned to walk away, and Bruce’s brow furrowed.

“I’ll be right back,” he said, looking at the Joker, who raised his eyebrows and slid off the bed.

“Oh pah-lease, pretty boy. I’m not leaving your side today until you pry me off.” He wrapped his arms around one of Bruce’s and walked with him, noting that he ahd this odd look in his dark eyes- not an agitation, not with him at least, but almost with himself. _Peculiar_.

Alfred had turned a television on in one of the parlors of the second floor. Bruce sat down on a couch, and the Joker settled in right next to him, curling up close. He leaned against him, could smell his cologne-

For a moment it smelled like acid, and his vision went foggy red. He gasped and jerked back, and Bruce looked at him, concerned. He blinked and it was gone, and he just shook his head in an _it’s nothing_ attempt and settled back in. On the screen a woman was speaking, but the Joker wasn’t hearing her until she said one very familar name.

_Harley Quinn_.

“Yes, you’re hearing me right,” she said, “A new threat has shown up on our doorstep. Once again, the criminals knows as Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn have threatened a release of Ivy’s latest toxin. Last seen at the mayor’s just over a week ago, the toxin still has no known antidote. Those who paid the ransom in order for it were given a shot during the early hours of the morning by masked men. The antidote has so far been untraceable in their veins.”

The Joker gritted his teeth as an image of Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn was brought up in the corner of the screen. Harley had her arms around Ivy and was leaning against her, head resting on her shoulder. “The three people that did not pay for the antidote have since passed away, last night at Gotham General. As of now, the authorities deny any comments on the matter.”

“They died!?” Bruce said, body tensing. The Joker looked at him, a bit confused.

“Were they friends of yours?” he asked, and Bruce looked at him for a moment, before he turned quickly.

“No just...just it’s a sick game these women are playing.”

“I’ve played sicker,” the Joker said, “Now hush, the nice lady is still talking.”

“So far, the crime duo has not released any hints as to what their next plan is. All they’ve said this time is that it is unstoppable, and that there is nothing the city can give to change their minds.”

Bruce shut the TV off, and reached up, rubbing his temples.

“Why so tense?” the Joker asked, “you can afford enough security to beat off those two. Hell sugarplum, get me a purple suit and a few knives and you won’t need _any_ other security.”

“It’s not me! It’s just...” Bruce hesitated again, “It’s just awful, those two. I hope someone does something.”

“Batsy will,” the Joker said, for a moment seeing that scowl and those black eyes. For a moment the arm that slipped around him was armor clad and heavy because of it, sharp and perfect and _belonged to him_ -

A moment later it was Bruce’s, and the Joker sank into it, wondering what was wrong with him.

After the initial reaction, Harley and Ivy’s plans didn’t come up. The Joker spent the next few hours feeling catatonically calm and placid with Bruce. Lazy kisses and a few stray hands. He’d lured Bruce back to his bedroom by the time night was fresh, after the first _real_ meal he’d eaten in a long time, had him tangled over his body as the Joker let him search his mouth, let him probe scars gently and taste the bitter sweetness of his very core. The Joker couldn’t say what he thought Bruce found so fascinating in him- oh, if the Bat found something he could say what it was and why- but _Bruce_ , he was different. He was supposed to be normal.

The Joker slipped a leg over his hip, ran his hands along his sides, slipping under his shirt, slowly pushing it up, wanting to see skin. The moment air hit Bruce’s skin though, he was pulling back, untangling.

“You should get some rest,” Bruce said, “after all you’ve been through. A real bed is probably a welcome thought.”

“You’re a much more welcome thought than just a _bed_ ,” he teased, and Bruce gave him a faint smile.

“How about you get some sleep and you can tell if you still think that in the morning.” The Joker sighed, but didn’t fight as Bruce stood up. “You can even sleep in _my_ bed.”

“Oooh,” the Joker purred, “you’ll be, ah, joining me, right?”

“Later. I want to get a start on taking care of Dr. Shepard. Paperwork and all.” The Joker frowned at that night, simply nodded, and watched Bruce enthusiastically as he left.

He slept, briefly, a deep sleep filled with waves and liquid in his lungs and a hand holding him. No gauntlet, just a hand, pulling him free, the sleeve of an expensive suit slicking with chemicals. He emerged, expected to stare into Bruce’s dazling dark eyes, but saw only the dark endless pits of the Bat, his cowl tucked into the suit. The Joker tried to trash away, but only fell closer, onto him. He smacked his head on the metal and his hood shattered like red glass, and when he looked back there was no one next to him. No Bruce, no Batman, he was simply alone stinking of synthetic waste, of acid and broken plastic that was melting slowly.

He startled awake and sat up, panting. He reached up and sank his hands into his curls, brushing them back, looked at the fluttering canopy around the bed. Bruce still wasn’t in it.

He closed his eyes, knew before he wondered why there was a draft in the room, before he heard boots moving on the floor. “Bats,” he said, turning towards the window. A moment later the canopy was pulled back and Batman moved from the shadows into vision. “What are you-“

“I need your help.” The words were strained, forced, and the Joker just stared at him for a moment. Then he was moving off the bed, standing next to him.

“What and where,” was all he said. The fact that Bats had _admitted_ it was enough, he could question it later. Gloat later.

There was a time he would have done that now, would have lived in the moment, but when he thought of that, his lungs felt full of liquid and he was suddenly drowning. He pushed it down, swallowed his pride and simply wondered how Bruce would react to seeing him gone.

Part of him wished he could get a good-bye kiss from the man. He was followed Batman to the window, he took one last look at the empty bed, and said good-bye to the lie of normalcy he’d almost gotten to live.

He was sick at how appealing it was.


	8. Chapter 8

The Joker slipped into the Batmobile, this time conscious and unblindfolded, and looked around. He reached out to touch a button, and his hand was swatted away.

“Don’t touch anything.”

“Never any fun,” he mumbled as the engine revved and they were off. “So what’s so challenging that you need me?”

“I need information.”

“Well Bats, you know how secluded I’ve been recently-“

“You know where to get it. I’m taking you to him.” The Joker raised an eyebrow. He thought to question Batman, to ask how he knew where the Riddler was, but kept his mouth shut. He was sure he didn’t want to know the answer.

They pulled up to what looked like an old coffee shop, closed down, and got out. The Joker turned just in time to have something thrown at it. He caught it, looked at the purple fabric in the moonlight.

“Didn’t have time to get you a whole suit,” Batman said, “but I figure this will make him feel a bit better.” The Joker slipped it on, straightened the lapels and smoothed down the sleeves. Truthfully, it didn’t look bad over his civilian clothes. He took one last look at Batman, then walked to the door, felt around and found the little latch. The door opened the opposite way it should have, and the two slipped inside.

The Joker knew the way. Through the dusty and unkept sitting area, into the back through one more trick door- this one had latches along the bottom, a code- the numbers could be figured from a riddle, but he had them memorized by now. He lifted it and they slipped through, closing it behind him.

“Eddie!” he called out, giving him a few moments to respond. When he got nothing he shrugged. “Sorry Bats, I don’t think he’s here tonight-“

“Why is he here?”

The Riddler emerged from the shadows, pushing his glasses up. His other hand held a staff, large ending with a big question mark. It looked silly at first, but the Joker knew the man was good with it. True, his strength was that beautiful mind of his, but a little physical push never hurt.

“We just need some information,” the Joker said, gliding over to him and throwing an arm around his shoulders.

“I’ll have to burn this hideout,” he said, ignoring the clown. “It’s my favorite, you know that.” He eyed the Joker then, from head to toe. “You look boring.”

“Thank you, captain obvious,” the Joker said, flicking him in the side of the head. “This is all Bats had, and he hasn’t been kind enough to let me pick up any cosmetics yet. So, do me a solid Eddie baby, and just answer whatever the Bat asks, okay?”

“What’s in it for me?”

“I’ll forget I was ever here,” Batman said. “And if you’re taking part in any of this madness and you cooperate, I’ll leave you be. Immunity, basically.” The Riddler eyed Batman, before turning, looking at the Joker, speaking to _him_ and him _alone_.

“I’m not involved,” he said, “I’m not interested in what your... _friend_ has to offer.” The word was spoken with a venom, a disdain, a feeling that the Joker was just a living betrayal. “You ask me, Joker. You ask me the right questions and convince me I want to give you the answers.”

The Joker’s eyes darted to Batman, and he gave him a look of almost _apology_ , before he reached out, pulling the Riddler close. He wrapped an arm around his shoulders, sank a hand into his orange hair, and kissed him. _Hard_.

Batman stared for a moment, his eyes wide. The Joker saw them as he tilted Eddie’s head, as the man clutched past his jacket and onto his black shirt, as his hips closed the gap and there was a touch of _friction_ and the Joker had to remind himself he wasn’t going _all the way_ with this, just a taste, a reminder.

Still, by the time he finally pulled back, both were breathless and the Riddler had refreshed his mental map of the scarring on the inside of the Joker’s cheeks. The Joker grinned, traced a finger along his jawline.

“Where are Ivy and Harley planning their attack?” he asked. Be direct- that was the _rule_.

“Everywhere. They have no set target ground. The whole city is up for grabs.”

“Who are they targeting?”

“ _Everyone_.”

“They can’t target everyone,” Batman broke in, “They don’t have the resources, the man power. They know we’re getting close to them-“

“Hush Bats,” the Joker said, waving him off, keeping his eyes on Eddie’s. “How will they release the toxin, Eddie?”

“They already have.” Batman jerked at that, ready to speak, and the Joker glared at him, a silent threat that if he spoke, he _might_ rip his tongue out.

“Where?”

“Everywhere.”

“More specific Eddie.”

“Than ask the right question.” The Joker said, traced a finger up Eddie’s chest.

“Higher or lower class?”

“Lower, first. Soon everyone.” The Joker nodded.

“Forced or voluntary exposure?” The Riddler cracked a smile.

“Voluntary.” He reached up, gripped the hand tracing up his chest. “Took you long enough. You used to know me better than that.” A quick glance at the Bat, and the Joker saw something flash in those eyes- anger, a possible hint of...jealousy?

The Joker paused, wracking his brain suddenly. He felt something tugging in there, something that was screaming that he knew the answer to his questions. He closed his eyes, hummed a tuneless melody to himself for a second, sifted through all the information he’d gotten. The names of all the thugs Harley took, how many steps from the nurses’ station to his old cell, that Jim from Ward A he never checked out, Percy’s dad having to have bought his son in insanity plea-

He stopped then, eyes snapping open. “Giggles.”

“What?” Batman asked, frustrated now. He’d had enough of these games.

“That’s it, isn’t it, Eddie?” Eddie grinned, and the Joker gripped his face and kissed him again, smiling himself this time. “Oh Eddie,” he murmured, “You always help me pick my brain just perfectly.”

“I hate to ruin your...moment,” Batman said, eyes hard, “but care to clue me in?”

“There’s a new drug on the streets,” the Joker said, stepping away from the Riddler and walking over. “One of my informants in Arkham told me about it. His father is a drug lord, it’s his business to stay on top of these things. He said it was called Giggles.”

“Ridiculous name,” Batman scoffed, “What does it do?”

“He didn’t, ah, say,” the Joker admitted, and he looked back at Eddie, who just shook his head. He had no information there. “Still, that’s something. So Harley and Ivy are behind it, and they intend to use it to release their toxin, somehow. You find the source of the drug and run it dry Bats, your problem is solved.”

“It’s not that simple,” the Riddler said, and both other men looked at him. “It’s been showing up with only minor dealers until recently. I think it’s too late to stop it at the source. You’ll have to contain it and analyze whatever is in it, come up with an antidote to whatever its chemical make up is, and alert the media, if you want to stop it. You’re too late to just cut off the supply.”

Joker frowned. “Still, this is a lead. You’ve been wonderful as always, Eddie.” He said nothing, just walked behind the two as they made their way back towards the door.

“I’ll...forget I was here,” Batman said, as much as he wanted to grab the man by his collar and toss him towards Arkham. The Joker saw it in his eyes. The Riddler said nothing, kept his eyes on the Joker, and spoke only as they stepped out into the streets.

“If you ever get sick of your Bat toy,” he said, “you know where to find me.”

His mouth curved up into a smirk, and the Joker grinned and winked at him, before following Batman was he stalked back to the Batmobile.

“So, we just need to find a drug dealer now-“

“No,” Batman said, “No, _we’re_ done. I’m doing the rest on my own.” He climbed into the Batmobile and the Joker frowned.

“No way,” he said, hoping in, “I’m almost enjoying being a crime fighitng duo.” He grinned. “You’re _stuck_ with me for the night, Bats. Should have considered this before you pulled me from a handsome rich boy’s bed.”

Batman’s hands tightened on the wheel as he drove, and the Joker noted it mentally. His odd reactions when he mentioned Wayne. _Was it jealousy_

“I can get that drug a lot easier than you can,” the Joker said, rotating his neck. “You go and get it, red flags will fly. They’ll know you’re onto them, and they’ll react. Let me get it, and they’ll never know.”

“I think Harley would react if she heard you were off buying her designer drug.” The Joker chuckled.

“They don’t have to know it’s me. Do I even look like the, ah, Joker you know?” He gestured towards himself and Batman glanced at him, then back at the road.

“...No.”

“Then it’s settled. Deeper into the narrows. One of Percy’s guys will have the drug. His daddy doesn’t let anything go on the market without making sure he’s selling it.”

The Joker insisted the Bat stay in the car, and well away. He walked the streets of the narrow with his curls falling into his face, messy and hiding his scars. His lack of make-up and his signature suit would help plenty, but his scars were a give away if he wasn’t careful. He had his hands in his pockets, fingers playing with the edges of the wad of cash Batman had handed him. He didn’t ask where he got his funds, thought he’d always been interested. He was just happy the man had agreed to play by his rules and make this as least memorable for the dealer as possible.

The Joker recognized the man only slightly. His stance, his placement, set him off as the target, and his face was somewhere in the Joker’s endless memory. He didn’t pry, didn’t really care, because if this man was so faint in his mind, there was no way he’d remember the Joker except for what he heard and saw on the news and the web.

“Hey.” The Joker kept his voice calm, in a low tone, devoid of his sing-song melodies and giggles. It was _hard_.

“Lookin’ ta buy?” The guy barely looked at him, was checking something on his phone. That meant he looked harmless- which, while it worked with the plan, the Joker couldn’t help but feel a hint of anger at. When all was said and done, he’d have to remind Gotham just how _harmless_ he was.

“Yeah,” he said, “Something good.”

“How intense do you wanna go?” The Joker grinned- he couldn’t help it- and had to fight it down and return it to just a smirk.

“I don’t need to remember anything for the next few days.” The guy laughed, shoving his phone in his pocket.

“I’ve got some new stuff,” he said, “my boss is convinced it’s the best thing on the streets. Won’t knock you on your ass for that long, but trust me, the ride is insane.”

“Got a name?”

“Yeah,” the guy said, pulling a little baggy from an inner pocket, “Giggles. Stupidest fuckin’ name ever, but the shit is good.” He said a number and the Joker pulled apart the cash in his pocket, producing what was asked and leaving the rest unseen, as if it didn’t exist. They switched and the Joker thanked him, turned and left without any flare, studying the weight of the small pills in his hands. They were half red, half black- he didn’t need to even think to know it was Harley’s signature- with five in the bag. They hadn’t cost as much as he and Batman had anticipated.

When he hopped into the Batmobile, Batman started driving without speaking. He tossed a piece of black fabric onto the Joker’s lap, gave him a look, and the Joker sighed.

“You’re so stubborn,” he said, tying it over his eyes so he couldn’t see. “What’s the harm in me enjoying the drive? I’ve been _inside_ your precious little cave, you forget.”

“No, you just wish you have.”

The Joker sat there a minute, confused, before the words sank in and he dissolved into a fit of laughter.

“Oh _Batss_ ,” he cooed, “A joke?! From _you_? Oh darling, are you ill? We can play doctor if you are! I can slip into a little nurse dress and-“

“Shut up before I regret making it,” Batman said, and the Joker could _hear_ the smirk in his voice.

The Joker wasn’t allowed to take the blindfold off when the car stopped. He sat impatiently while Batman got out, helped him out, and then lifted him up. The Joker _squealed_ in shock, clung to his neck and laughed as he was carried. Batman set him down so he was sitting on a counter and pulled the blindfold off. The first thing the Joker saw were those nearly black eyes staring into him, with a look he’d never seen cross the Bat’s eyes- but he didn’t have a word for him.

“My legs do work,” he pointed out, letting on hook loosely around the Bat and pulling him closer. The vigilante didn’t protest, one hand holding onto the lip of the counter he leaned in closer. The Joker grinned.

“I couldn’t risk you walking into anything and breaking it,” Batman lied- oh, lied through his teeth, the Joker could _see_. “Where’s the drug?”

The Joker reached into his pocket, pulled out the little baggy with four pills in it and passed it to the Bat. He straightened up, looked at them, as the Joker dug the extra cash out and left it on the counter.

“How long will it take ya to figure out what’s in ‘em?”

“A few hours,” he said, setting the baggy down. “Sometime mid or late morning.”

“So we can get breakfast while we wait,” the Joker purred, reaching for his hand and pulling him back. Batman fit between his thighs perfectly, bumping into the counter.

“No,” Batman said, “Tell me where you want me to take you, and I will. I would have taken you directly from the Narrows, but I wanted to get those pills back here asap.” The Joker frowned. “You can’t stay-“ Batman said before he could speak, “So just name a place.”

The Joker’s pout turned to a frown. He considered saying Bruce’s place, but he couldn’t go back there just yet. He’d have to explain this, and he didn’t want to. Besides, he needed to clear his head- thinking of Bruce made his body do all kinda of funny things, made him forget at times that he was supposed to be in love with the Bat-

And he messed with memories the Joker thought he’d locked away- memories that damn drug Shepard had given him had raised up.

“Don’t take me anywhere,” the Joker said, “I can get where ever I need to on my own. Just load me back up in your little Batty Caddy and drop me somewhere.”

“Joker-“

“Oh don’t Bats,” he said, raising his hand, “I’m not interested in you messing with my head tonight. Just do it.” Batman sighed.

“Don’t think I’m ungrateful for your help,” he said, and the Joker frowned, narrowing his eyes.

“Then show me you’re not,” he dared, releasing his hold on his arm. “Repay me for it. Remember when I said in Arkham I just wanted a favor? Well, I’m calling it in, Batsy _darling_. Just one little favor, and you’re completely free of me.”

“What is it?” The Joker licked his lips, locking eyes.

“Kiss me.” Batman didn’t move, his eyes staring directly into the Joker, and the madman grinned. “Just one kiss Bats- that’s it. That’s all it takes to get me outta your hair tonight, to make sure you don’t _owe_ me for all the help I’ve given.”

“I broke you out of Arkham,” Batman said through gritted teeth, “Isn’t that enough?”

“Not really,” the Joker said, tracing a finger along the sculpted armor on his chest. “Just one kiss Bats. You’ve denied me _so long_ , just give in for a second of your life-“

Batman growled, leaned in, crashed their lips together mid sentence, and the Joker froze. He hadn’t expected the big man to agree. He melted though, turned to a puddle under those lips and clawed at his armor. Batman tensed, as if readying to push him away, before his arm slipped around his shoulder, sank a hand into his hair and tugged gently, angling the Joker’s head so he could invade his mouth deeper. His tongue traced along one scar and the Joker quaked, completely undone. He leaned back, and Batman followed, until the Joker was nearly laying on the counter and the vigilante on top of him.

He hooked a leg around him again, kept him close, raised his hips and sought friction between them. Batman groaned into his mouth, his lips falling into a sweet rhythm, his tongue tangling with the Joker’s and tasting _oddly familiar_.

The Joker was out of breath when Batman pulled his mouth away. He pushed his hips up, felt Batman respond by pinning them down to the counter, groaning, and he giggled between his gasps for air.

“You want me,” he said, voice low and dark and serious, and Batman responded by leaning into his neck and biting at the flesh, sucking on the skin, making him mewl and wiggle as the pale flesh was bruised. He wrapped his arms around him and fisted them in his cape, rocked his body to the grinding rhythm the Bat was setting between them-

He’d felt it before. The back of his brain was telling him he had- gentler, yes, but that same rhythm, that seem specific friction needed. He closed his eyes and pulled the Bat up for another kiss, felt it on his lips and in his tongue as well. Something wasn’t right.

When Batman pulled away again the Joker’s head was spinning. He tried to focus on breathing, stared into those dark eyes, dark and endless-

The blue of the ocean showing as he stared back, not with hate.

The Joker sat up suddenly, jerking Batman up, and pushed him away. He slipped off the counter, ran a hand nervously through his hair, felt his body twitching. “We’re even,” he finally croaked out, and Batman stared at him. A moment passed, and he seemed to regain control of himself, what he had been doing, and he was sweeping past the Joker, muttering that they needed to go, then.

The Joker didn’t speak to him when he left the Batmobile. He tried not to think about him. But those hands were there, on his body, in his hair. That mouth that already knew the map of his, knew the texture of the scars on his inner cheeks. Those eyes that suddenly weren’t as black as night.

The Joker was sure he was going absolutely _mad_.


	9. Chapter 9

Autopilot took the Joker to the one hideout he knew was still secure- one he had never shared with Harley, one his thugs never knew about. One he wasn’t even sure the Bat knew about. The apartment door was locked, but he fished the spare sky form the small loose spot in the rug by the wall and unlocked the apartment, keeping a look out for his neighbors. This one was different, this one wasn’t in the Narrows or some basement-

This was an apartment in broad daylight, in Gotham where other living people lived. Where _sane_ people lived. There was something to be said about hiding in plain sight.

He locked himself in, even used the deadbolt. It wasn’t furnished with much- there was one couch in the sitting room, one bed in the bedroom, one large dresser and one nightstand with a lamp. Mostly it was boxed labeled and stacked, cases sealed that required a key to open.

The first thing the Joker did was strip completely naked and scold himself with burning water in the shower. When he was thoroughly clean, he walked naked to the bedroom, slipped into a pair of underwear, and walked to the kitchen, opening the cupboards to see what he had left behind. A box of raspberry teabags, that was enough, he just wanted something warm in his system. He left the water to boil and made his way to what would be the living room for a normal person, but for him was just another room for boxed. He sifted through them, crouching to read the labels and then pushing them aside until he found the one he was looking for.

He carried the box into the bedroom, set it on the floor and opened it. He pulled out a tripod, began to extend the legs, open it. He settled a small camera atop it, opened it and flicked the on button, peering at the screen and adjusting the angle so it was spot on with the bed. The last thing he pulled from the box was a long cord, that he plugged into the camera, before kicking the box to the corner of the room. He made his way back to the kitchen, checked the water, then went back to the living room, gathering up a laptop and the cord that were sitting on the floor by the couch. He set that on the dresser in the bedroom, plugged it in, and connected the camera via the cord to the computer. Satisfied when a window popped up, displaying a copy of what the camera saw, he went back to the kitchen.

The boiling water went into a chipped black mug, and one of the tea bags went in after. He left it to sit, went back to the door to double check the locks. He tugged on it to test them, and, satisfied that they’d hold well, went about checking the few windows in the apartment. He locked them, pulled the curtains tight so that the world couldn’t peer inside. Then made his way into the bedroom again, pulled a case from under the bed and flipped it open. He ran his fingers over the syringes inside, before pulling one out, along with a small bottle. He jabbed the needle into the top, pulled the plunger back until he was satisfied with the amount in it, then walked over to his dresser. He tapped the needle, ejected a little liquid, then left it sitting next to the laptop.

On his final run, he cleared the clothing from Bats from the bathroom, leaving it folded in the bedroom, and retrieved the tea. He sat on the bed, listened to the silence around him, tried to keep his mind blank as he had while he worked. He sipped at it, let the warmth seep into his body, before he et it down and lifted the one small black and red pill he had set on his dresser after retrieving his clothing. He looked at it, smiled to himself because Bats had no idea he’s taken one before he even gave him the bag. He got up and crossed the room, hit the record button on his camera, and returned to the bed. In silence, he popped the pill into his mouth, downed it with the last of the tea, and sat there, waiting.

Minutes ticked by, and he didn’t feel anything. He clicked his tongue, felt a little restless, and stretched out on the bed, laying down. He stared up at the ceiling just as the dark began to swim and swirl like the ocean, moving in shadowy waves that made him feel seasick. He rolled onto his stomach and buried his face in the pillow, breathing in the dusty scent of unuse. His skin began to feel hot, despite his lack of clothing, and he giggled, wondering what it’d feel like to peel it off and let muscle and bone _just breathe_.

He felt a suddenly coolness on his calves, tracing up along them to his thighs. He peered over his shoulder, saw a cowled face, and _grinned like a fool_.

“Batsssyyy,” he cooed as those hands squeezed his thighs, “How did you get in _you devil_.” Batman grinned at him, and the Joker giggled again, before those hands inched higher, traced over his ass and gave the flesh a squeeze. His giggles dissolved into a gasp. “Liked your little taste in the cave?” He mused, the room spinning before his eyes. He squeezed them shut and swallowed the lump in his throat, trying to remember how to breathe. Batman’s cape was dragging against his legs, the sharp corners of his armor digging into his skin. “Lose the armor _baby_ ,” he said, “It hurts.”

Those hands disappeared and he could hear clasps being undone as the bed moved and the Dark Knight got off it. The Joker buried his face in the pillow again, giggling with excitement, before a pair of arms were suddenly wrapping around him, lifting him. He was flipped over, dragged onto a lap, and when his eyes opened he stared up into the ocean.

“Brucie,” he whispered, and Bruce stared down, smiling, running one hand through his green curls. “I’m sorry I had to _leeaaave_ ,” he said, the words thick on his tongue, “The Big Bad Bat stole me. Be a dear, Prince Charming, and fight him off?” Bruce chuckled and pulled him up, peppering kisses along his jawline.

“How about we call a truce,” he whispered, leaning down into his neck, “And he and I just _share_ you.” Joker heard the rumble of laughter from behind him, and turned, craning his neck, to see. The Bat was standing absolutely naked except for his cowl and cape- which was clipped together by his neck with a little Bat, different from how he wore it usually- smirking.

“I like that plan.” He crawled onto the bed, gripped the Joker’s chin and kissed him, tongue delving in to trace his scars as Bruce bent his head and kissed long his collar bone, down to one pale nipple. He worried it with his teeth, made the Joker gasp into Batman’s mouth, before soothing it with his tongue. Batman’s strong arms pulled him from Bruce’s lap, sprawled him out on the bed so Bruce could stand and begin to undress, taking his time pulling his suit jacket off, loosening his tie. The Joker felt his eyes burning into him as Batman traced every scar he found with his lips and tongue, one along his collarbone from a break, small ones on his upper arm. He latched onto one on his side, sucked on the skin until the Joker was sure it would part.

He reached over his head, looked back, saw Bruce was naked now too. He leaned over the bed and kissed him, sweet and tender in a way that made the Joker’s stomach flutter, until Batman’s tongue was tracing his navel, lapping at one long scar. The Joker’s cock, laying hard against his abdomen, bumped his chin, and Batman didn’t hesitate to look up, catch both men’s eyes between a kiss, before he let his tongue drag down the length and back up. The Joker let out a shaky breath, was never able to take another as Bruce claimed his mouth, just as Batman sucked him into his throat.

He writhed, his hips jerking towards that mouth, his arms reaching around Bruce to hold on and cry into his mouth as his Bat showed him no mercy. He was seeing stars and barely able to breathe when Batman finally pulled off, and hooked the Joker’s legs over his shoulders. He tipped his hips up, burying his face lower, until his tongue was teasing his entrance. The Joker cried out, breaking away from Bruce’s lips, and heard the playboy snicker.

He crawled properly onto the bed, tongue flicking out against the Joker’s cock, before he swallowed him down, and the Joker was gripping the sheets and crying out. He wanted to thrust up towards that mouth, but down towards Batman’s tongue, and it hurt _so badly_ to be torn between the two. He squeezed his eyes shut as his stomach muscles tightened, opened his mouth to try and voice a warning, but all he could do was babble _Bats_ and _Bruce_ and neither seemed willing to hear it as a warning- or to pull away.

His eyes shot open and the world exploded for him. Bruce drank him down and Bat’s kept working with his tongue until the Joker was mewling and whimpering for them to have mercy, that it was so good it _hurt_. Bruce pulled back finally, licking his lips, and the Joker groaned. Batman moved next, grabbed him and flipped him over onto his belly, sucking on two of his fingers before he pushed them inside the Joker’s body.

He gasped, eyes going wide, before his lids grew heavy and he pushed back against them. It should have hurt more, part of him wanted to think, should have needed more then just a twist of Batsy’s tongue to make everything slick, but it was perfect and he didn’t care. He reached for Bruce, lifting slightly and hugging him around the waist, his face burying in his lap. His lips found thigh and hip as Batman added a third finger, and then- deeming the Joker ready, ran a slick hand over himself before he shoved his cock deep inside the madman.

The Joker cried out against Bruce’s skin, clutched onto him as Batman leaned over him and drove as deeply as he could. After a few thrust he grabbed the Joker’s hips and pulled back, standing up off the bed and dragging the Joker away from Bruce to get a better angle. Bruce just chuckled and followed, kneeling on the bed so the Joker could push himself up on his hands and kiss his abdomen, let his tongue dart out and trace down the muscle, along the length of his sex, and swirl around the tip. Bruce sucked in a breath just as Batman let out a feral groan, and the Joker opened his mouth and swallowed him, crying out around him as a sweet bundle of nerves inside his body was assaulted so _perfectly_.

The Joker clutched as the sheets, reveled in the taste of salt on Bruce’s skin, his body aching from the way his Bat was stretching him. A hand reached around one hip, gripped his cock, and Bats was stroking him in time with his thrusts then, bringing his already half hard cock back to life in a matter of seconds.

He rocked between them, pushing back against Bat’s and then letting his body bustle him forward, so he could swallow down Bruce. The playboy reached down and sank one hand into his hair, pulling gently, guiding him, the other tracing over a rugged scar one his shoulders where a Batarang had caught him once.

Joker felt Batman’s hand on his hip tightening, his fist around his cock speeding up. Bruce was squirming more, too, hand tightening in his hair. The Joker felt his belly tightening again, and managed to swallow Bruce deeper, his throat opening. Just as he pulled back slightly, Bruce cried out, shook gently, and suddenly his seed was spilling over his tongue and down his throat. The sudden shock of bitterness- though it was far from unpleasant- jolted his nerves and he gave a muffled cry around Bruce’s cock as he came again, his muscles tightening around Batman so much so that he bent over him and growled, a beastly sound ripped from his throat as he followed, letting the Joker’s orgasm milk him dry.

The Joker collapsed onto the bed, writhing still,waves of bliss still washing over him slowly. He licked his lips and looked back at the two men, grinning lazily.

“Maybe you two oughta give me a rest,” he said, “and just put on a little, ah, show for me.” He giggled, suddenly the sound bubbled up in him, and he couldn’t stop, even as Batman gave a dark, intimidating smile and grabbed Bruce, whose eyes looked wide, nervous. He pulled him flush to his chest, kissed him, reached around and dig his nails into Bruce’s back. As the skin broke the Joker reached up to cover his mouth, still unable to stop laughing, even as the two began to melt, skin fusing with skin, and the room was spinning again.

The Joker closed his eyes to avoid getting dizzy, and when he reopened them Bruce and Batman were gone. What was in his room now was a hulking shadow of a beast, bearing long white teeth was a gargoyle like snout. It screeched at him and all he could do was _laugh_ even as his heart began to race. He inched back until his back hit the wall, as it’s beady little white eyes watched. When it reached a claw out towards him he scrambled off the bed, falling to the floor-

And he continued falling, into a liquid that bubbled against his flesh, burnt like fire. He cried out, fighting to keep his head above as the beast dove in after him, creating a wave that ducked his head under. He breathed the liquid in and choked, clawed for the surface, for anything.

When he reemerged he couldn’t see the beast, but could feel it by the shivers going down his spine. He saw against the liquid fire, towards a twist of metal that stood at the edge of the vat. Atop he saw something glint, something his mind was screaming at him that he needed, that would save him. He was almost there when those claws dug into him, pierced flesh and muscle and bone and pulled him back against its slick body. He screamed at the top of his lungs, flailed, felt it’s jaw open and clamp down on his shoulder, crunching bone.

The world spun as his nerves lit on fire, as his body tried to shut down to escape the feeling. He fought it off, twisted around until the creature’s claws dislodged from his body, and kicked away. He reached for the metal, clung to its uneven surface and crawled up it, reaching for the needle he saw. His fingers wrapped around it just as the beast grabbed him again, dragged him under the waves. He kept his eyes open and they burned, the acid sinking in through every pore. The world began to fray at the edges of his vision, darken, and he took the syringe he had grabbed and jabbed it into his thigh- not knowing exactly why- and plunged the liquid into it.

A moment passed, and the world did go completely black.

When his eyes next opened, he was laying on the floor of the bedroom, an empty syringe next to him. He sat up slowly, realized he was naked now, and squeezed his eyes shut, trying to remember what had happened-

_His body was stretched wide and he couldn’t get Bruce deep enough down his throat, hands clung to his hips-_

He scrambled up on shaky legs and leaned against the dresser, ending the recording on the camera and gathering up the laptop, taking it to the bed. He took one look at the ruffled blanket, the white stains, and tossed it away, settling on just the sheets. He brought his recording back to the beginning- over three hours ago- and skipped through the video.

He sat there for a good ten minutes before he laid down, and then everything suddenly changed. He was completely alone, but he watched his body contorting as if someone else was there, how he ripped his own underwear off- how no one was touching him but he was getting hard. After the first orgasm, he skipped through bits of the rest, unable to watch- suddenly the feeling of Bruce and Batman’s hands on his flesh had felt so real.

He stopped when he fell off the bed, when he screamed as if something was after him. He closed his eyes, and the creature was there in his mind, the aberration of a past he tried to bury, clawing at him, crunching bone, dragging him down into an acid bath that _wasn’t there_.

He plunged the syringe filled with high grade tranquilizer into his leg with over two hours of video left. He sifted through that quickly, but there had been nothing until he woke up.

The Joker closed the laptop and pushed it away, drumming his fingers on his thigh. He tried to think about this from the perspective he went in with- to analyze what this drug did, to see what Harley and Ivy had created- but it was hard when he had those fresh memories of the Dark Knight and Gotham’s most known playboy in his head. He sighed and flopped back, the air settling on his sweat sticky skin and making him cold. He reached for the blanket, avoiding certain spots, and curled up, trying to decipher his thoughts.

All he could focus on was Batman’s mouth, and the familiar way it moved, the way it knew his scars already. And those eyes- black as night, turning into the rolling ocean depths-

His heart skipped a beat because in that moment, _he knew_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did not plan the threesome part, I swear. I was writing and I just got the idea and then suddenly **bam** I was writing it...


	10. Chapter 10

He waited until dark, knew there was no way the Bat would be out before that. Once the sun set, it wasn’t hard to find him. He dressed in one of the suits he had in his closet- rich purple and fitted because he needed to _see_ the Bats’ reaction- covered his face in white paint his skin didn’t need and lipstick he desperately did.

He copied the recording of his hallucinations onto a flash drive, slipped it into his pocket, and left the apartment, not sure when he’d be back. If he’d be back.

He made sure to walk past a few traffic lights, look directly up into the cameras that were there. He circled the same few blocks, and sure enough, within the hour, he came.

“What do you want?” Batman spoke, crouched on the lip of the low roof to a shop’s entrance. The Joker smiled.

“What makes you think I, ah, _want_ something, Bats?”

“You’re walking in circles. You’re looking directly at cameras. You wanted me to find you.” The Joker grinned, though it was forced in the corners, and shrugged.

“I have something for you,” he said, motioning him down. Batman hesitated, then leaped down, taking the few steps so he was standing close to the Joker. “I took one of those pills-“

“How?” Batman asked, “I have all four you gave me.” He chuckled.

“There were five in the bag,” he said, “I lifted one before you even got them. Would you expect me not to?”

“I wouldn’t expect you to take one,” Batman admitted, “My analysis came back, it’s a weird hallucinogenic.”

“It’s more,” the Joker said, leaning closer. “It makes you see such _things_ Batsy. Such things- such truths. Such...desires.” He could feel hands on him then, two sets, and two mouths, and suddenly he _wanted_ to take one again, because it was real. “And then it all goes to hell.”

“Come back to the cave,” Batman said, though his eyes said he was unsure if it was the right thing, “explain if to me there.”

“No,” the Joker said, digging into his pocket, pulling the small drive out. He pressed it into Batman’s palm. “No Bats. Not tonight. Take this, it’s a recording of me on the drug. Be careful though, I seem to end up naked and rather...aroused at one point.” He winked, though his mouth wasn’t smiling. “Over two hours at the end is nothing. I was passed out, managed to get a tranquilizer into me.”

“I’d really like to know what you saw-“

“No,” the Joker said, narrowing his dangerous eyes. “No, you wouldn’t...Bruce.”

He watched those eyes, watched the way the color drained out of him. Batman choked on his breath, and the Joker had his answer. He fisted one of his hands, considered shoving it into his gut to knock the rest of the wind out of him, but resisted.

“How-“

“Don’t ask,” he said, “you wouldn’t want the answer. Just...just go.” He stepped back, putting space between them, waited as Batman- no, no, Bruce- stared at him, then turned and was gone into the shadows.

The Joker wanted to know what game he was playing. What had he been thinking, showing up at the Asylum, showing him compassion. What had he been thinking, kissing him and taking him into his home? _What sort of sick game were they playing?_

That had to be all it was. Bats had to have done it for a reason- some sort of need to keep a check on the Joker, some sort of need to control him. That’s all it was, any of it. That almost sweet feeling of normalcy, that had been born out of a lie. Nothing could have been _normal_ with the Bat lurking under Bruce’s skin.

Past midnight he had a little baggy in his pocket, five more pills. His fingers rolled them around in his pocket as he contemplated what he was thinking, what he was planning. Drugs, they messed with his head, they made an already overly intense world too much to bare, but-

But he wanted that feeling of completion he got between the Bat and Bruce. He wanted a world where he had them both without any consequences, where they were separate, Bruce was the good, the Bat was the bad, and they were both _his_.

He was about the pull the baggy out, to down two this time right there on the streets of the Narrows, he’d find his way somewhere, when he heard the screaming start. Shrill but faint, coming from inside one of the buildings. He paused, pulled his hand free, and walked down the street, listening as it grew louder. He stopped in front of an old flower shop, pressed his ear to the cold door, heard the sound escalate ever so slightly. He pushed on the door. When it didn’t budge, he rammed his shoulder into it, until the old hinges gave and he stumbled inside. It was dark, but hot, humid, the air smelled of dirt and that overly strong plant smell. He inhaled and wanted to gag.

Carefully, he felt his way through the dark, guided by the little bit of light that managed to seep in through the open door. He felt his way past the old counter, around it, pressed against another door. This one opened when he turned the knob, and he snuck in, following the sound. It was growing weaker, wavering, dying out like a flickering candle.

It was pitch black in the room, and even his overly sensitive eyes couldn’t see. He closed them instead, listening, moved slowly towards the sound, hands skimming along anything he could find. He nearly stumbled when his foot dropped suddenly- stairs. He leaned against one wall, opened his eyes against the black, and carefully walked down them.

The air grew heavier, thicker, wetter. It choked him, made him sweat despite the night cold outside. He reached the bottom of the stairs, saw a fain glow down a small hallway, and followed it to another closed door. He pressed on this one and it moved without much help. Carefully he pressed his body against it, steadied it as he moved it just a crack to peek inside.

The heat that rushed out made him dizzy. The air was wet enough to swim through. But standing there, in the center of the room with a determined, focused look on her face, was the last person he expected to see that evening.

Harley.

“This won’t do,” she said, folding her arms. “It took too long. I want ‘em crazy in seconds _flat_.” She waved her hand and a large man walked past her. The Joker heard chains rustling, and then a man was carried across his vision before he disappeared. “You tell your boss it’s gotta be _stronger_. I did my part, you’ve got plenty of Joker Venom in the serum. You’ve got plenty of Red’s plants. Now tell him to cough up the good shit, or I’ll force it all down his _throat_.”

There was a man standing near her, who started nodding furiously. For a moment, the Joker was rather _proud_ at how stern she sounded- how in control. But then he reminded himself she was in control because she took it from him, and the anger clouded the pride.

“I want a new make up in the morning,” she said, “We’ve got a schedule to keep. Red’s getting anxious, she can’t stand all the meat in this city. And what my girl doesn’t like, _I_ don’t like.” She unfolded her arms, walked out of the Joker’s vision, and the Joker heard the sound of metal on flesh, of last breaths and the slump of a body. When she came back there was speckles of blood on her arm, and she was closing a switch blade. “Hell, that didn’t even kill him! He shoulda been so _scared_ his heart stopped. Your boss is losing his touch.”

She stuffed the blade into her pocket, still talking. “Now get outta here. Don’t make me send one of my boys to deliver the message, or I’ll use you as my next test subject.”

The Joker readied himself for a confrontation, but the man disappeared into a dark corner of the room, and a hidden door opened. Harley motioned to the men in the room, and they followed, leaving her alone. Once the door had shut again, she pulled a phone from her pocket, traced her finger over the screen a few times, then held it up to her ear.

“Hey darlin’,” she said, smiling, “The boys are all gone. I don’t think I’ll get anything else done tonight, that serum was too weak. The guy didn’t even die.” She listened, giggled, reaching up to twirl some of her blonde hair. “No, I told ‘em I’d resume in the morning. Nothing more for me tonight. Don’t you worry your pretty little head though, we’ll stay on schedule. The city won’t know what hit ‘em!” She paced a few steps, unable to stand still. “Uh-huh. I’ll be back home soon Red. Save some of that passion for me.” She giggled again, stopping off just in sight to trace something on an old wooden table. “I love ya too, Red. Be there in a few.”

She hung up the phone, pressed it into her pocket, and the Joker considered striking out. She was distracted, he had surprise- and he could best Harley, he was sure. But he lacked any real weapons- a few hidden knives, yes, but he wasn’t sure what she had hidden. Couldn’t tell from where he was.

When she moved towards the same corner the others had, he waited. Once she had slipped through the door and snuck in, looking around the room. There were a few potted plants down here, growing in soil almost black, which he didn’t dare touch. He knew better. He went straight for the corner, felt along the wall until he could find the outline of the door, and nudged it open. A quick peek told him Harley was well ahead of him, and he slipped inside the dark tunnel, running a hand along the wall to guide him. There were no stares, from it was at shallow incline, he could tell. It twisted and turned with absolutely no light, and he was sure would be unnerving to most.

He could feel the air changing as he neared the end. It grew drier, cooler. He nearly pumped into the end, banging his leg on just missing whacking his forehead on the door. He growled in irritation, felt around for a way to push it open, and found it after a few tries. He cracked it open a bit, then enough to slip out into the cool, Gotham air.

He looked around, trying to get his barrings, and with a sick twist in his gut knew the exact portion of the Narrows he was in. The part that had belonged to him once, the part where he supposedly still had a handful of men waiting. Men he hadn’t reached out to, yet.

He went on auto pilot to the hideout, stayed in the shadow and crept around corners and in doors. It was easy, this was his territory, but he never knew if Harley had changed anything- if she had remodeled in his short absence.

Basement of one of the old buildings yielded what he was looking for- a few men lounging around, watching the lights flicker on a TV. With Harley standing in the center of the room.

“So you’ve had not a _word_ from him?” she asked, and they were shaking their heads.

“No ma’am,” one said, “Nothin’. Are you sure he’s out?”

“Positive,” she said, “Dammit, we made sure that bitch _told_ him he had some guys here. He had nowhere else to go, there's no way he tracked down the Riddler. That weirdo has been gone for a while, maybe he finally left Gotham for good.” She sighed. “The moment you hear something, you guys let me know, okay?”

They mumbled compliance, and Harley took off through one door. The Joker waited, considered pursuing her, but decided against it. He had other matters he could attend to.

He waited until she was good and gone, until one of the guys got up and left the room to find something hard to drink. That left three. He pulled one switched blade from his pocket, held it between his teeth, and pulled another from inside his jacket. He flicked it open, cracked the door just a bit wider, aimed-

And threw it into one man’s jugular. He gurgled, clutched at his neck, and toppled off the couch. The Joker burst in, grabbing the other man that was the closest and smashing his head to the wall, knocking him unconscious, before he lunged on the remaining man. He pulled the knife from his teeth and held it to his throat, pressing in enough to let lose one trickle of warm blood.

“Tell me,” he said, keeping his voice calm, letting that sing-song melody into it, “What’s Miss Haaarley planning?”

“Boss I-“

“Don’t lie!” His voice boomed through the room. “How did Harley know someone had told me about you guys?”

“She, she paid her,” the man stammered, “the chick. Paid her good. She came d-directly to us, let us know what she was t-telling’ ya.” The man tried to swallow. “Boss, we had no choice! Without ya here, we had no one but Miss Harley to go to.”

“And what was Harley’s _plan_ , when I finally came to you guys, broken and helpless from a fresh escape from Arkham?” The man was quiet, and the Joker reached deep inside himself and pulled that heavy, commanding voice form his soul. “Answer me!”

“S-she,” he stammered, “S-she was gonna do what ever Miss Ivy said. Miss Ivy wanted ya dead, boss, said you was in the way. You’d cause ‘em problems. Miss Harley didn’t take it too well at first, but- but she agreed, told us we was to knock you out, and she was gonna hand ya over to Miss Ivy.”

The Joker gritted his teeth. He was sure Ivy had such _wonders_ planned for him. He had more questions, but heard the sound of footsteps- soft and cautious.

He turned just as the last man rounded the corner, held the one he’d questioned up, and let him catch the gunfire the man tried to rain down on him. When the bullets stopped he lunged, knocked the gun away and punched the man in the jaw, grabbed his head and slammed it into the wall once, twice, three times. Until his skull cracked and gore stuck to the walls.

He picked the gun up and shot the finally, unconscious man in the head a number of times. When he was done he walked over to the window and threw it open, taking the gun with him and slipping into the night.

He had more questions, and no one alive to give him answers.


	11. Chapter 11

When he made his way into that little abandoned coffee shop, half of him expected Eddie to be long gone. The other half expected him to be toying with some sort of puzzle, whatever he did in his down time.

He hadn’t, however, expected him to be sitting there, waiting for him.

The Joker stared for a minute, and Eddie motioned him in. “Alone?” he asked, and the Joker nodded. “Bats and you already have a fight?”

“You could say that,” he said, sitting down before Eddie could offer. “Harley’s been toying with me, since I was in Arkham. I wouldn’t doubt it if someone said she was behind me getting locked up again. Her and that bitch Ivy- they’ve been planning this. A while.”

“You shoved her away enough for Batman, of course she plotted against you. Lover scorned, Joker.” The Joker sucked on his lip for a second. “Why are you here?”

“Don’t you know? You were waiting for me.”

“What’s predictable-“

“Don’t even start,” the Joker said, running a hand back through his hair. “I took their drug.”

“You never touch drugs,” the Riddler pointed out.

“Yeah well, I wanted to know what I was dealing with. It was...it was crazy. It was a _dream_ Eddie, the realest dream I’ve ever had. And then, just like that,” he snapped his fingers, “It turned into a nightmare. The kind even _I_ don’t like. But even after all that...I wanted more.” He reached into his pocket, pulled out the little baggy, dropped it on the table. “Almost took ‘em on the street. I just...I _needed_ to have that dream again.”

_Where I have Bruce and the Bat and they both love like it’s their last night on Earth._

“So?”

“So, I need to know who is behind this. This is well beyond Harley, but I wonder if some of it is even out of Ivy’s hands. She could make it addictive, she could make it...” _Erotic?_ “... _pleasurable_. And Harley could make it seem real, I was...laughing, but not my laugh. I couldn’t control it. It’s got Joker venom-“

“You’re not susceptible to your own chemicals.”

“No,” the Joker said, tapping his fingers on the table, “I’m not, normally. But if Ivy messed with the make up enough...maybe it got to me. I’m still...off from my time in Arkham.” For a moment Shepard flashed into his memory, those hands, that burning pain, and he had to remind himself he’d make him pay. Right now, Harley needed attending first. “But what I saw after, it was straight from a nightmare. It was...it was real.”

“What dresses like a pauper, but strikes fear like a knight?” The Joker looked at the Riddler, glaring. He didn’t come here to listen to riddles- which, he knew, meant he came to the wrong person, but he had hoped Eddie would spare him _because it was him_.

“I don’t know,” he said, waving his hand, and Eddie sighed.

“If you were a bird,” he said, “you’d be scared of this.” The Joker sighed, tapped his fingers. _Dresses like a pauper, intimidating like a knight, birds don’t-_

His jaw opened without his say as he whispered the only name that came to mind, and suddenly everything seemed to fall into place.

“Scarecrow.”

It took Joker until near morning to finally get to Wayne Manor. By then he was exhausted, but he pushed his body on, careful of the extensive security Bruce had installed. The Joker could only assume the cave was nearby, and that was why. Still, he made it to the large front doors, and simply rang in, like he was a visitor and it wasn’t about five AM.

It took a while, but the doors finally opened, and Alfred stood there, staring at him.

“Ah, Jeeves,” he said, “is the little Bat in?”

He was let in, though the man watched his with weary, old eyes, but forced to wait until Bruce finally emerged. He was in his suit still, but his cowl was pulled back and rested against his cape, his gauntlets gone. Any shadow of doubt the Joker may have had was gone, and he stared at the man and beast he didn’t know how to classify.

“I thought we broke up,” Bruce said with a hint of a smile, and the Joker _wanted_ to glare, wanted to be serious, but the corners of his mouth twitched up and he chuckled.

“You’re still sleeping on the couch.” Bruce walked over, took his hand.

“Come down with me,” he said, and the Joker followed because there just was no other choice. This was his Bat, this was Bruce, this was everything and he _had_ to follow.

One of the first things the Joker noticed in the cave was on the large computers screens Bruce had- his naked body, his recent drug trip, and he stared at Bruce.

“I watched the whole thing,” he admitted, sitting down in his chair. “...A few times.” The Joker settled on the counter, staring at him. “If you’re so attracted to me as Batman and me as Bruce then why-“

“It’s not a matter of _attraction_ , sugar,” the Joker said, realizing he had forgotten to mention to Bruce that if he did watch it, he should cut the sound. He didn’t want to remember what sort of babble he may have said. “It’s a matter of _motive_.” He leaned onto his elbows on his thighs, stared hard into Bruce’s eyes. “Why would you...would you be so, ah, attentive and _kind_ to me in Arkham. What were you planning? Why hunt me down-“

“I wasn’t planning anything,” Bruce said, staring back, “And I didn’t hunt you down. When I saw you collapse...that was accidental. But you looked so...so unlike yourself. I just couldn’t help but rush over. Even when you came to, you were just...different, I guess. Like you couldn’t possibly be the monster that has terrorized my city.” He reached out, placed a hand on the Joker’s thigh. “And then I saw how they were treating you there, and I was pissed. I was pissed that I had managed to not notice a place I rely on so heavily gone straight to shit. Arkham can’t help patients if it treats them like the dead.”

“There’s no helping some of us,” the Joker pointed out, and Bruce was suddenly pushing between his thighs, catching his chin between his strong fingers.

“Then why are you helping _me_?” He held the Joker’s gaze as he spoke, each word puncturing the otherwise heavy silence of the cave. “What have you got to gain? At first a favor from the Bat, yeah, that could be something big- but now, what? This isn’t all a personal vendetta against Harley, and I know it. You’re helping me because it’s helping you.”

The Joker wanted to tear away from that gaze, to lash out and hit Bruce, but he couldn’t move- because he _didn’t_ know why he was helping Bruce. He wasn’t sure if what Bruce said was right or not.

“It’s not easy for you to admit,” Bruce whispered, “I know. This...this is wrecking me too. I _hate_ the things you’ve done, the lives you’ve taken. I hate you for it. But...but you do something to me, you give me a purpose. There’s nothing so thrilling as chasing you across the rooftops of Gotham with your laughter in the wind.” He stood up, kept the Joker’s chin between his fingers, his other arm going around him. “You’re beautiful,” he mumbled, drawing closer to those red lips. “Did you know that?”

The Joker giggled, but it stuck in his throat when Bruce kissed him, slowly. Their lips moved in a lazy rhythm, Bruce pulling him in, teasing every curve of his lips until he was inside his mouth, teasing every scar, ever soft spot that made the Joker cling to him.

“You...are...” The words took time, Bruce wasn’t sure he knew how to breath, especially not with that heavenly mouth there for the taking. When he finally pulled back, the Joker’s eyes were glossy, and Bruce could only smile. The Joker stared at the curve of that mouth, the honest curve, and smiled back, tracing one hand along his chest, feeling the contours of the suit.

“I could give you a second chance,” he whispered, “We’ll have to talk about it, Brucie. But there are other things...” He looked back at the screen, saw himself paused on the floor, those eyes wide. He didn’t like the look in his eyes, barely recognized. _Terror_. “I came here for a reason,” he said, turning back, “Scarecrow is involved.”

“Really?” The Joker nodded.

“Yeah. He’s putting a variant of his fear toxin in the drug. I...I stumbled on Harley tonight.” He told Bruce what he saw, how Harley had complained that the drug was supposed to kill the subject with fear. He even told him about how she had planned to have him killed, and watched Bruce’s eyes as he mentioned the deaths of the four men who had intended to play a part in it.

They didn’t change much. They sparked, but not in an anger directed at him.

“What could Scarecrow have to gain in this,” Bruce mused, moving away from the Joker to pace. He shrugged a shoulder.

“Who knows what Ivy and Harley promised him. Who knows what they even want. It’s not money, whatever their planning...I don’t think they’re going to warn anyone. I think they’re going to try to take out the whole city.”

“Ivy would love that,” Bruce said, “Then nature could take over all of Gotham.”

“And what Ivy wants, Harley wants.”

“But how does Crane fit into this?” Bruce sighed, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes until he saw spots. He was frustrated, he couldn’t see a link. There was nothing Harley and Ivy could give him that he’d want if all of Gotham was _dead_. He wanted fear, and there had to be someone alive to experience it. There had to be people so he had power over them.

Bruce sighed. It was too late to do anything now, with morning on the horizon. He could dwell on it all day, but one thing was sure. He’d have to act come nightfall, whether he knew, or not.

“It’s too late to do anything today,” he said, looking at the Joker. “I’m exhausted, and I’m sure you are too. Let’s get some sleep. I’ll go over it all again this afternoon.”

“And then?”

“Come nightfall, we find Harley and Ivy. Even if we don’t know Crane’s part, we can take them down before they cause any more damage.” The Joker said nothing in response, still running over the details in his own head.

The Joker hadn’t quite expected Bruce to take him back into his room again, hadn’t expected the man to strip shirtless and pull him into bed, hold him in the forced dark of the drawn, heavy curtains. He fell back against Bruce’s chest as the man’s hand splayed on his stomach, traced a long scar along his navel. The Joker shivered.

He wasn’t sure what Bruce was intending. He wasn’t sure what he _wanted_ Bruce to be intending. Part of him wanted him, hated that he wasn’t naked already and on top of him, hated that he wasn’t making parts of his trip a reality. But the other part of him wasn’t sure he could handle this, after all the nights of tormenting and teasing the Bat, after hungering for him so badly it threatened to consume him into true madness, he wasn’t sure he could survive the real thing.

Bruce finally rolled him onto his back, pressed against him and kissed him, hands tracing his sides, pushing under clothing, pulling it away from skin. His fingertips lit his skin on fire, made the Joker quiver, told his hips how to move so Bruce could remove his clothing, told him how to moan when Bruce touched his hips, his thighs.

It wasn’t like his hallucination, beyond the fact that Bruce and the Bat were one in the same. It was slower, Bruce didn’t seem to be in a rush. He traced every scar with his tongue, tasted the salt of his body as his fingers pried gently, sweetly opened his body with ease. The Joker didn’t speak, he just mewled, whimpered, felt broken because _Bruce was going so slow_. He kissed him when he first pushed inside, when the Joker wrapped arms and legs around him and felt his eyes stinging and was thankful for the darkness that Bruce couldn’t see.

Bruce kissed the saltiness from his cheeks, didn’t need to see, but didn’t say a word. There were no words one broken man could speak to the other, not then. Not now, not yet. Not when they had to break completely so they could fuse their pieces together, begin healing slowly.

Bruce kissed the Joker’s scars, his temple, his curls, tried to cover every bit of him with his lips as the Joker cried out and clung to him- louder than he meant, realizing that he seemed to have no control suddenly _and that was terrifying_. Terrifying because he didn’t want the control, he wanted Bruce to touch him and he just wanted to _react_.

When he finally awoke later, after little sleep, Bruce has an arm draped over him, pressing his face into his curls. The Joker fidgeted a bit, reached up with one hand and traced the bones in his hand until he stirred, opened dark eyes behind him and yawned.

“Five more minutes,” he said, rolling over, and the Joker giggled, following and leaning onto him.

“Brucie,” he said, “You’ve gotta get up and save the city, remember?” Bruce yawned again.

“You mean get up and beat up your crazy ex.” The Joker giggled more as Bruce tried to squirm away, but he held fast.

“It’s nearly eight,” the Joker said, “And I’d love to spend all night in bed with you, Brucie darling, but you’d never forgive me if your little city fell while we were f-“

“Okay,” Bruce said, rolling over and sitting up, “I’m up.” The Joker smiled, nestled into him and kissed his cheek, enjoying the last few minutes of peace before the night began-

It very well could be the last, if Harley and Ivy played their cards right. And while the Joker wouldn’t voice that, he knew Bruce was thinking it to, as he suited up, as the clown reapplied his make-up until his face was the pristine painted grin of pure chaos.

“Master Wayne,” Alfred said, just as the Joker was straightening his tie. He looked at the madman with a look of mistrust, but he didn’t speak a word of it. “The computers picked them up on a traffic, they’re heading towards downtown Gotham. I’ve uploaded the last sighting to your GPS. It will plot a path for you if they show up again.”

“They will,” Bruce said, “They’ll get careless.”

“Or they want to drive you out,” the Joker said, and Bruce smirked, pulling his cowl down.

“If they want me,” he said, “they’ll get me.”


	12. Chapter 12

Bruce sped through the streets, following the tiny spots that appeared on a screen in the Batmobile. He muttered to himself here and there about where they could be going, but the Joker paid little attention. His fingers were tracing along his thigh, the slight bulge of a blade in his pocket.

He was picturing shoving it into Harley’s neck, and it was rather satisfying.

“We’re stopping here,” Bruce said, pulling off the street, “Or we’ll be too obvious.”

“Sweetie, we’re obvious no matter what.” Regardless, the Joker climbed out with him, let the night air hit him, vibrate around him, bring him to life. He watched the streets, how busy they were, and could only wonder how long Bruce thought he could keep in the shadows in downtown Gotham when the citizens were just coming to life. “They’ll see us in ten seconds flat.”

“Follow me,” Bruce said, reaching out a hand. The Joker took it, and Bruce pulled him tight to his side, muttered, “hold on,” and shot a hook up onto the roof of one of the buildings. The line pulled taught, secure, and then began to restrict, jerking them up. When they’re feet lifted off the ground the Joker clung tighter, started giggling, and Bruce squeezed him painfully tight to keep him from cackling. Now _that_ would give them away.

Bruce held the Joker until he had firm footing on the rooftop. He popped the grappling gun onto his belt and grinned.

“Try to keep up,” he said, turning, and he was off, running along the rooftop and making a leap to the next one. The Joker watched for a moment, then laughed and followed. He could forget for a minute that he had plans to rip Harley limb from limb if it meant chasing his Bat with the wind of the city in his hair.

The Joker did indeed keep up, much to Bruce’s delight. He made a mental note that some night, after this mess was over, that they’d have to do this. Scale the rooftops of Gotham with the wind in their hair and no real destination except an end where they were naked.

Bruce had to tell himself to focus, that now wasn’t the time, don’t think about things like that. He stopped abruptly and fell to a crouch. The Joker followed suit a moment later, hidden mostly by the black of Bruce’s cape. They were staring out at the busy nightlife, the clubs blasting music. The streets were packed with people waiting to get in-

And dealers walking around almost openly.

“Not very scared of _you_ ,” the Joker pointed out, and Bruce shot him a glare.

“Shut up.” He looked back. “What are Harley and Ivy doing here-“

“Releasing the drug,” they both said, in unison, and Bruce frowned. He stood up, hitting a small button on his cowl and radioing back to Alfred.

“Sir?”

“I need you to send a message to Gordon, asap,” he said, “About Harley and Ivy. Their plan is to release a drug, and they’re doing it. Tonight. I had thought I had more time.”

“Right away sir-“

“And tell him to get it to the media. Let them know people _cannot_ take this drug. This might be the one time they can help us.”

“Yes Master Wayne.” Bruce killed the line and looked over at the Joker. 

“Ready to get your hands dirty?”

“Ah, Batsy,” he said, standing up and cracking his knuckles, “just loosen my leash and I’ll do _all_ your dirty work.” Bruce took a deep breath, knowing that was exactly what he was going to do.

The Joker walked down the crowded street, laughing, grinning, making eye contact with those waiting outside the club. They stared at him, recoiled, some trid to push inside while others left the line to flee. He had pulled a knife from his pocket and was flipping it casually, catching it by the handle every time with little effort.

“Haaarleeeey,” he called, eyeing each dealer he passed- they stood out, he could smell them, and there was more than there had ever been. “Come out come out where ever you are, precious!”

He would have liked to thrown a knife into a throat or two, really make an entrance, but he knew that wasn’t the plan. The Bat would be pissed- and he wasn’t interested in any fights yet.

“Anyone seen that girl of mine?” He asked, stopping and grabbing one man by the face, pulling him closer. “Hm? No? Shame.” He pushed him back against a car, was about to round the corner, when the side door to a club opened and he heard his name called out. The Joker stopped, grinned, turned around and flung his arms out. “Harley darlin’, so good to see you.”

“Joker.” She eyed him up and down, flicked her free blonde hair back. She had changed her look a bit, she looked sleek in her pinstripes, the red bralet she wore underneath showing off her navel, which now boasted a set of tattooed lips.

“Got her mark on ya already Harley?” he asked, walking towards her. She watched him, light eyes attentive, before she stripped of her jacket and tossed it to a large man holding the door for her.

“Oh Puddin’,” she said, cracking her neck, “ya shoulda just stayed locked up.”

She charged him, shoulder down, smacked right into his chest. He tried to brace himself but was still pushed back. He stumbled, nearly lost his balance, and she was there to land a punch to his jaw. He did fall then, landed hard on the pavement but reached out, hook his legs around her ankles and tugged. She followed, down too as the people are ran in chaos. He untangled himself and stood, pulling a fresh night from an inner pocket on his jacket, the first lost somewhere on the ground now.

“How about we put a _real_ smile on your face?” he asked, leaning down and gripping her chin. She glared and jerked her head back into his groin, let him to lurch back and release her. Harley was quick to turn and scramble up, grinning back at him.

“How about I just rip your’s off, Puddin’?” She lunged again, arms around his waist, shoved him into the side of a building. She sank her hands into his head, smacked it against the wall once, before he kneed her in to stomach, pushed her back enough that he got a good kick to her side. She went down again, and he gripped the knife and jammed it down into her thigh. Harley screamed, and the Joker grinned, ready to pull it out for more, when another voice called out to him.

“Stop.”

It wasn’t much of a yell, rather calm. He looked towards the street, and sure enough, there was Ivy, watching. He moved back, standing up, grinning.

“Ivy doll,” he said, “why, what a pleas-ure. You’re looking just _lovely_.” She was frowning, watching the way his body twitched. “I was wondering when you’d show up. I know my little pumpkin here didn’t come up with a plot to _kill me_ all on her own.” Ivy started walking towards him, slowly. “Oh, come come doll, why you both _tried_ , and you get an A for effort!” He reached down, sank a hand into Harley’s hair and pulled her up. She yelped as the knife moved in her leg, as her scalp exploded in fire.

Ivy frowned at that, her walk changing into a run. She leaped at him, knocked her slight weight into him, forcing him to release his hold on Harley. She pressed her wrist up towards his face, and suddenly a vapor was releasing from her large banded bracelet into his face. He shoved her off, coughed, glared at her.

Harley was there next, pulling the knife from her leg and tossing it away. She had her own matching band, and was shoving it into his face. As it released he laughed.

“Sweetie that’s _my_ venom,” he said, “it won’t do a thing-“

“Not on it’s own,” Ivy said, “but with my latest compound, you might be feeling a little... _funny_.” The Joker gritted his teeth, making a fist and jumping back up, lunging at both. Harley got a punch to her belly, while he wrapped a hand around Ivy’s throat and lifted her up, throwing her against the wall. Harley cried out and threw herself at him, jumping onto his back and wrapping her hands around his throat, squeezing. His air cut off and he choked, face going pale blue slowly as he clawed at her hands. He fell to his knees and she grinned wildly.

“I’d say it was fun, Puddin’, but really, it wasn’t.”

The Joker was seeing black spots when Harley suddenly released him, screaming as a batarang tore into her shoulder. She fell from the Joker who lumped forward, hands on the pavement, coughing and swallowing air. Bruce stood on the roof of one of the few cars on the street, another poised.

“Stay down Harley,” he said, “or the next one hurts more.”

“Bastard!” Ivy cried out, running towards him. She was quick enough to dodge his throw, and leaped for him, trying to drag him down to the ground. At the same time Harley tore the batarang from her shoulder, blood gushing down her arm. She tossed it and crawled towards the wall, knocking over a garbage can. The Joker turned just in time to see her pull two objects from the mess and stand, shoulders slumped.

When she finally raised her head, she was grinning like him, her eyes little pinpoints of wild blue. She ran at him, swinging one of the two small hammers she had- each tipped with a sharp, hard point, and just missed as he rolled out of the way. The pavement cracked under the force and she pulled back, swinging against as he stood. He leaned back, barely escaping each swing. One tore a line through his shirt, just missed skin, as he backed into the street.

“Hold still!” she screamed, and the Joker almost _did_ , something inside him beginning to feel fuzzy. Whatever Ivy had dosed him with was catching up, and the world seemed fuzzy around him. He looked over at Bruce, as he knocked her hand away as she tried to get him in the face as well, and stared at the way he moved, the secret rhythm of muscle and bone under flesh under Kevlar, how perfectly in sync he was-

The hammer shoved into his side, piercing flesh, and he cried out. Harley pulled back and hit him with the other one in the other side, catching a rib. The Joker could feel a crack and screamed again, going down on one knee. Harley stood over him, raising one, ready to strike down onto his head, and she leaned forward, wrapped his arms around her legs and pulled, throwing her off balance. She went down, hit the pavement hard, her head smacking against it with a sick sound. The Joker stayed on his knees for a second, before he staggered to his feet and moved over her. He kicked her hammers away and crouched down, pulling his last knight from his jacket and flicking it open.

“Gonna...carve you...up,” he said, trying to ignore the the way world was spinning. He set the knife to her collar bone, drew one line along it that welled with blood, before he heard a voice yelling at him to move, to get off of her. He looked up, saw Bruce rushing over. He reached down, pulled his arm up by the wrist and threw the knife away, dragging him off of Harley’s unconscious body.

“No!” He growled, “She’s down, stop!”

The Joker looked at that hand, then back to his face, eyes glossy.

“Ivy-“ he started, and Bruce frowned.

“Gone, because I had to come babysit _you_.” The Joker narrowed his eyes, focusing his mind.

“No,” he said, “you just don’t have the stomach for this. Turn the other way and let me at the cunt-“

“No!” He threw in arm around the Joker, pressing him tight to his side as he reached up, touched his cowl and called back to Alfred, told him to get the G.C.P.D. to this location stat, that Harley was down but Ivy was still at large. When he was done he looked down at the Joker, whose breathing was ragged. He released him, and when the man stumbled back, he saw the blood staining his shirt and jacket. “You’re hurt.”

“Just a scratch,” he said, though he was frowning. “Ivy got me with...something. Slowing me...down.” He reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Gotta...go get her...too.”

“We’ll bind Harley and get you back to the Batmobile,” he said, “Get you to the cave. I’ll do the rest on my own.”

“No time,” he pointed out, “You won’t find her before she gets the drugs on the streets. Probably already out.” He crouched down, grabbed both of Harley’s wrists and held them up for Bruce to secure. “We have to go _now_.”

Bruce frowned, because the clown was right, and he hated that.

They left Harley secured to one of the parked cars, still unconscious, and continued on foot. If the Joker’s wounds were slowing him down, he was barely showing it, though Bruce was sure he’d be in rough shape soon. He was getting his coordinates from Alfred via radio, who was tracking Ivy by traffic cameras and other various security cameras they had hacked into. She was fleeing by foot, and judging by her lack of caution, might actually be afraid.

When she disappeared into one of the pharmacies upper floors, Bruce stopped and shot his grapple hook up, clutching the Joker to him and riding up, kicking in a window on the third floor and rolling the both of them onto the musky old carpet. Bruce stood first, dragging the Joker up to his feet. He kicked the door open to the hallway just as Ivy appeared at the top of the stairs. Her eyes widened and she turned, running back down them, but Bruce was faster, laughing over the side and grabbing her, slamming her into the wall.

“It’s over Ivy!” he said through gritted teeth, “You’re done.”

“Prett-y bad planning,” the Joker said, leaning over the railing, “you were sitting d-ducks out there, doll!”

“We weren’t supposed to be!” she snarled, jerking her head, “He took our hired guns, dammit. When we needed them!” She glared up at the Joker, “I swear to god if you hurt her, I’ll skin you alive clown!”

“Mmmm, it’s a date,” he said with a wink, “Maybe I can skin you after, you’d make a nice coat-“

“Joker,” Bruce said without looking. “Stop. Who, Ivy, who took your men?”

“I’d say why bother tellin’ you,” she said, “But I want him to get a taste of his own medicine. It was Scarecrow, it had to be. There’s no one else who would.”

“Where is he?”

“Probably at the docks right now,” she said, “If you hurry, you might be able to spoil his fun.”

“What. Fun.”

“We were going live tonight,” she said, “with the drug. Harley and I were downtown to be in the heart of it, and he was going to give it to the suppliers to get to the dealers. He should be dishing the good stuff out any minute. Since he backed out on us, though, I’m not sure _what_ he’s actually planning.”

The Joker clicked his tongue as Bruce said nothing, only cuffed Ivy and began leading her down the stairs. The Joker followed, clutching the railing with a shaking hand when Bruce wasn’t watching.

Once outside, Bruce radioed for Gordon, and let Ivy secure to a streetlight. She was cursing they disappeared into the shadows, Bruce setting a brutal pace to get back to the Batmobile. The Joker felt his lungs burning with each step, his grip loosening as Bruce would grab him and hoist them up to the rooftops. Still, he kept his mouth shut, even as he left one bloody hand print on the Batmobile, climbing in.

Bruce didn’t notice. All he could see was the road, the time ticking away in his head as he raced to get there before Scarecrow unleashed hell upon his city.


	13. Chapter 13

There was no subtly to their entrance. Bruce pulled the Batmobile right into the docks, under a rain of gunfire as the first round of thugs spotted them. The Joker gripped onto the door tightly, trying to make his vision stop doing double, taking a deep breath. He reached one hand down to his side, winced at the pain that shot out when he touched his rib, at his fingers that came back slick.

“Mow ‘em down,” he said, knowing he had little time to get to Scarecrow and help Bruce. There was no time to deal with these men.

“No,” Bruce said, “I won’t kill them.” He stopped the Batmobile abruptly, grabbing a canister from behind his seat. He opened the door, tore a pin from the top, and threw it towards the men forming a half circle around the vehicle. Gas streamed up from it, making them cough. They began to drop their guns, hunch over, until they fell and the gas began to dissipate. Bruce hopped out, taking off in a run past the limp, unconscious bodies, the Joker following as best he could.

Bruce had tunnel vision, the Joker could see it. He wasn’t thinking, he was just _reacting_ , and that was unlike him. Then again, this was a threat not just to a group of hostages, but to the entire city. This was full scale madness-

Part of the Joker was a little jealous.

He saw the glint of the gun before anything else. He put more speed into his step, screamed “Bats!” at the top of his lungs, and grasped his cape in his hands, jerking him back and shoving him to the ground. A second later bullets split the air where their heads had been. Before Bruce could move the Joker launched off of him, making a mad dash for the man behind the shipping container, grabbing the gun by the barrel and jerking it up so the bullets rained over their heads. He pulled it away and smacked the man in the face with the gun, punched him in the gut and then hit him over the head with it. He fell and the Joker felt Bruce’s hands pulling the gun away, tossing it.

“Thanks,” he said, and the Joker just glared.

“Be more careful. You’re not me.” He crouched down, rifled around the man’s pockets, before turning to his head. He pulled a small earpiece off him and held it up, listening to the chatter. Bruce watched him, and a moment later he tossed it down, standing up.

“Loading dock seven,” he said, “Scarecrow is there. Sounds like he’s angry, the amount of cops out thanks to you calling in Harley and Ivy is caring off most of the suppliers that were supposed to show up. Word’s out on the news too, he’s probably livid.”

“Then let’s go let him vent his anger.”

A few minutes of shadow-creeping and ambushing finally got the two to loading dock Seven. There was a decent ring of armed men around Scarecrow, but he was visible, pacing and screaming angrily into a phone, presumably with one of the dealers that was supposed to send someone for the drugs.

“I’d love to get that phone and get its records,” Bruce mused, “Mob connections, I’m sure. We could pull down almost every dealer in Gotham.”

“Focus on the big scary prize first,” the Joker said, taking a deep breath to steady his vision. Underneath his jacket, his shirt was clinging to both sides, sticky, but he wouldn’t mention it, not now. Not when Bruce needed him. “You can handle all those guns, right? With your pretty suit? I’ll take Mr. Tall and Horrific.”

“No-“ Bruce started, but the Joker was off. He ran, shoulder down, into one man and knocked him over. Bruce had no time to argue, he threw a batarang at one man, knocked the gun from his hand, and tossed another, charging as well.

The Joker was quick, throwing himself at another man and wrestling his gun from him. He sprayed bullets carelessly in front of him, forcing the men to scatter out of his way so he could continue towards his target. He didn’t care if they regrouped, he trusted Bruce to have his back, since he’d given him no choice. He did aim slightly as he neared Scarecrow, shooting one man in the knee and crippling him, the other in the shoulder. Scarecrow watched, eyes amused beneath his ugly mask. The Joker slowed his approach, tossing the gun aside, until he stopped and just stared with angry, crackling green eyes.

“You _were_ supposed to be dead,” he mused, eyeing the man as he slipped the phone into the pocket of his jacket. “But then again, I knew Harley’s little scheme to get your men to do the job wouldn’t work. She’s just not at your level yet, Joker.”

Scarecrow reached one hand over to a case he had sitting on the stacks of boxed that must have contained the massive supply of Giggles. He opened it, pulled a glove out and slipped his hand into it, flexing and watching the moonlight glint of the needle tips on each finger.

“So how about I finish what your little brat started?” The Joker grinned, charging towards him bare handed. Scarecrow stepped to the side, but the Joker grabbed the tail of his jacket, tugging hard and making him stumble, giving him the chance to twist his body and punch his jaw. Is head jerked back but he reached out, grabbing him with his ungloved hand around his neck. The Joker could have dodged it, once, but blood loss and the fading effects of the concoction of drugs from Harley and Ivy had left him slow. Crane grinned behind his mask and lifted him up but his neck, until his feet dangled off the ground.

“Here, have a nightmare on me!” Crane jabbed one needle into the Joker’s stomach, the amber liquid draining into his body.

“I’m immune to your fear toxin,” the Joker snarled, reaching up to grip Crane’s hand as it squeezed tighter on his windpipe. It was true, he’d been exposed to his own Joker venom so much that Crane’s drugs had little effect on him-

But Crane was laughing. “Oh, you _were_ immune. But you’ve got Ivy’s toxins in your system, even your own. It lowers your ability to fight it, leaves you wide open. And this, this isn’t just my fear toxin. It’s what that ridiculous drug was meant to be. You know, It old them Giggles was a ridiculous idea, but Harley insisted because of the effects of your venom. You won’t be laughing though, Joker. You’ll be screaming.”

He threw him down, and the Joker pushed his torso up off the pavement, gritting his teeth-

It hit him so fast, he didn’t have time to breath. His vision went red, hazy, the air felt humid. Suddenly he was wet, soaked, his skin burning. He slipped back to the pavement, gasping for breath as his lungs constricted painfully, and heard Crane laughing, felt it surrounding him and reverberating in his bones. He tried to push himself up again, to find the man, but heard heavy footsteps, the beat of wings in the dead of night.

The creature was there, snarling, the bat-beast with those huge wings and beady white eyes. It flew towards Crane, tackled him to the ground, and the Joker was sure ofr a moment was going to feast on him. He screamed, a high pitched, broken wail, and scrambled back, until his back hit what was a shipping counter, but to him was the wall of a vat of acid. He turned and clawed at it, desperate to find an escape, a way out. He could hear bone crunching beneath teeth, the sound of blood sloshing from greedy lips-

A moment later, Crane slammed into the container next to him. The man groaned, looked up, and the Joker watched as the gargoyle stalked towards him.

He screamed a wordless string of sounds and lunged at the best, pale hands reaching out to grasp onto its heavy legs, trying to drag it down. It fell, shocked, and the Joker realized it must have forgotten he was there, so intent on devour Crane. His mind couldn’t register that that was okay, just that this thing had haunted him for years, in the recesses of his mind. And he needed to end it.

It grabbed him with its sharp claws and dragged him up, staring into his wild green eyes, his pupils blown He snarled at him, growls he didn’t understand, so he punched its jaw to shut it up. It staggered, dropped him, and the Joker fell across Crane’s legs. The man was laughing wildly, but whatever words he was saying to the Joker were just a string of echoing sounds. The world was just an echo, there was nothing to hold onot, and he could feel the chemicals rising, ready to swallow him down.

“Joker!”

His head snapped up, looking for that voice, whoever had called to him. All he saw was the beast, as it lumbered towards him, wings outstretched in the wind. “Joker!” It came again, a sweet sound, a voice without gravel or hate, and the Joker knew it, somewhere in his mind, there was a name for it.

The beast grabbed him and he kicked it in the gut, scrambling away. It could crunch his bones between its teeth, drink his marrow dry, he couldn’t let it touch him.

“Joker stop!” Again he heard it, it echoed through hie red helm. He reached up, pressed his hands to it, shook his head. In anger he tugged and tugged until the helm jostled free, feel over form the effort and smashed his head into the shipping container turned vat wall. The helm shattered, as it had once before when he tried to remove it, a jagged edge digging into his cheek, dragging up from his lip, along his cheek, creating one crescent shaped scar. He held his cheek in a moment of panic, before he remembered the way that pain had made him embrace the panic inside his body, the terror boiling up. How that half grin had made him harness it and tame the beast.

He clawed at his face, with one of the red shards, digging into the other cheek, creating the perfect red Cheshire grin, tested it out and felt his face open wide over his teeth. Grinning madly he turned to the beast, forcing himself up, seeing it for the black shadow it was, and stretched his arms out, welcoming it to try him. Behind him, Crane was rustling around, grasping a knife that had fallen from the Joker’s pocket. He forced himself up as the shadow was barreling towards them, slamming the blade to the hilt into the Joker’s back, aiming for his spine.

The Joker crumpled down, crying out, and the beast flew past him, grabbing Crane and slamming him into the container’s side with near bone shattering force. Then it turned to the Joker, grabbed him, and the Joker opened his broken mouth to scream, but he heard it again, that voice calling to him. Soothing him.

_Bruce_.

The name flashed in his mind, and suddenly a maelstrom of images splattered behind his eyelids, faces and eyes and hands and the move of a mouth as it kissed his skin and whispered his name over and over and over again. Bruce, Bruce was here, calling to him, pulling him back from this. The Joker clung to the beast, stared into its white eyes until they turned blue-black, until they stared back and its mouth moved, speaking words he knew.

“Joker it’s me! You’re hallucinating. Joker, come back!”

He clung and shook, knuckles going white against those beastly arms that turned to Kevlar over human muscle. He forced his eyes shut, saw stars as his heart hammered painfully against his ribs, and when he opened them, it was Bruce, masked but still Bruce, staring at him.

The Joker smiled then, smiled with a scarred mouth and not a freshly torn one, as air grew cool and light, as the feeling of burning subsided.

“Fight it,” Bruce whispered, pulling him closer, and his wings fell to a loose cape around him. The Joker bowed his head, ready to close his eyes, when suddenly Bruce’s body was jerked back, head snapped up. He crumpled onto the ground, and the clown turned, stared up at Scarecrow, who was looking down, panting.

He launched up, grabbed the needled hand that shot out and jerked his wrist so hard the bones snapped. He screeched and the Joker threw him against the container wall, bashing the back of his head against it.

“Don’t-“ He slammed his head against it again. “Touch.” A knee to Crane’s stomach. “My.” A hook to his jaw. “Bat!”

He jerked him up and threw him to the pavement, the glass vials in his glove shattering and leaking his latest poison onto the ground. The Joker walked over and crouched down, grasping him by his collar and lifting him up.

“If you ever make me relive those moments again,” he spat, his lip twitching in a snarl, “I will rip you limb from limb and strangle you with your own intestines. You hear me?”

Crane’s head lolled back, and the Joker dropped him, the energy draining from him. He looked behind him, saw Bruce was getting up, staggering over to drop on his knees next to him. He reached behind him, managed to get a hold of the knife’s handle, and pulled, dropping it to the ground, biting back a cry. Bruce crouched down when he reached him, grabbed Crane’s hands and bound them, noticing the floppy wrist.

“You broke it,” he said, and the Joker tried to grin, only managed to grimace.

“He tried to break y-you.” He leaned against the Bat, his lungs aching with every breath he took. Bruce clutched him against him, felt his body go suddenly limp.

“Joker?” He pushed him back, watched the way his head fell back. “Joker!” He looked down at his hands on his waist, saw the blood on his gauntlets. He set him on his back and ripped his shirt open, staring at the two nasty holes on either side of his body. One had the jagged edge of a rib poking out.

“Dammit!” He radio’d Alfred, told him where he was, and asked him to let Gordon know Crane was down and ready to be collected. “And I’m coming in,” he said, gathering the Joker up in his arms, “The Joker’s hurt Alfred, bad. Shit, he’s been bleeding out this whole time.” Bruce voice wavered as he ran, the man’s head resting against his chest. His eyes were partially open, even though he was limp, and Bruce was babbling down to him that it’d be okay, he’d get him patched up. “Just don’t die on me,” he cursed, throwing open the Batmobile and setting him inside. “Don’t you die on me!”

The Joker opened his mouth to say something, that that was crazy, it was just a couple of scratches, but nothing came out. Nothing went in, either, and suddenly the world was black, and everything ceased.


	14. Chapter 14

The first thing he felt was the odd soft feeling of being cocooned in something warm. The second was the sudden stabbing ache in his sides and towards his lower back. His eyes shot open and he gasped, thrashing a bit, before a set of strong hands gripped his shoulders and there was a voice in his ear soothing him, breath warm and brushing against his skin.

“It’s okay,” Bruce murmured, “You’re okay. We’re in the cave.” He stroked his hair, kissed his forehead by the blonde roots. “Relax.”

The Joker tried, but it was hard with the pain that was beginning to seer through him. Bruce moved away for a moment, and the Joker’s eyes followed him as he switched a bag on an IV rack. He realized there was a line from the bag to his arm. He tried to grasp it, but Bruce was pushing his hand away.

“Leave it,” he said, “it’s just pain killers and some fluids. You lost a lot of blood. You broke a rib...really badly. Did you know you had a knife in your back?”

“I...I remember pulling it out.” His throat was dry, scratchy, and talking was hard. He tried to sit up again, and Bruce helped him, braced him and let him lean against him. The blanket opened and he looked down, saw he had bandaging wrapped all around his torso. “I’m in pretty, ah, rough shape, huh?”

“I thought you were dead,” Bruce admitted, “So yes, you are. You definitely tested Alfred’s skills.”

“Remind me to thank Jeeves,” he said, coughing. He groaned as his chest lit on fire. Bruce rubbed between his shoulder blades soothingly until he could breathe again. “Tell me we at least got him?”

“You don’t remember?”

“I think we’re lucky I know your name.” Bruce sat down on the table with him, kept an arm wrapped around his blanketed body.

“We did,” Bruce said, “but not before you broke his wrist and gave him quite the beating.” The Joker leaned against him. “He got you with his serum, it actually seemed to affect you this time. You were howling like a banshee and attacking me.” The Joker mumbled something, and Bruce squeezed him. “Come again?”

“You were a beast,” he said, “A gargoyle. And I was drowning. Everything was red.”

“What does that-“ Bruce froze, looked down at him. “You...you remember-“

“Of course I remember,” the Joker muttered. “It was the most terrifying and gratifying moments of my life.” He sighed, sagged against Bruce. “Tell me I don’t have to sleep on this thing.”

“If you cooperate, I think I can get you and the IV up to my bedroom.”

Bruce had been right. He managed to get the man upstairs and tucked into the bed, pulling the curtains closed so that the light wouldn’t stream in. “You need rest,” he said, and the Joker reached up, grabbing him by the wrist.

“Don’t leave,” he said, and Bruce wanted to fight him, tell him he had to so he could get some sleep, that Bruce had things he had to attend to. But those eyes bore straight into him, and he was crawling into the bed, under the covers before he knew what hit him. He wrapped his arms loosely around the Joker, careful of his wounds, and places a lazy kiss to his neck.

“Better?”

“Mmhm.” The Joker took a deep breath slowly, felt Bruce’s lips dip a little lower, find his collar bone. “So, what next?”

“Well, you get some sleep,” Bruce said, “I’m not getting _fresh_ ,” he added, giving the man a stern look, “you just took quite the beating. I’m just glad you’re alive.”

“Not that,” he said, waving Bruce off, “I mean...what’s next for, ah, me? For us? Sending me back to your precious Arkham once you get it cleaned up?” Bruce frowned. His first thought was to say no, but he stopped himself. Would he? He had mentioned it the Gordon, had told him reforming Arkham needed to be a top priority once this mess was taken care of. He’d even told him a certain Bruce Wayne had seen some of the atrocities, and would be more than happy to not only testify, but to help him fund the reform.

But would he send the Joker back? Would he turn him over to police custody for the wait, have him locked up? He’d broken him out because he needed his help, and because he couldn’t leave him where he was going to be slowly destroyed piece by piece by an abusive maniac. He’d stolen him away because he loved-

Bruce was staring down at the Joker, who was watching those dark eyes. “Your brain,” he said, “I can hear its gears. Need some oil in there, lampchop.” He giggled, though it ended in a pain sound, and reached out, running his fingers through Bruce’s dark hair. “You know, you always have the option to keep me.”

“Keep you?” Bruce asked. “What are you, a puppy?”

“House trained, I swear!” The Joker sat up, much to Bruce’s dismay. “C’mon Brucie, admit it, you’d miss me if I was locked up in some cold old cell.”

“You’d break out in two days,” Bruce mused, sitting up as well. The Joker shrugged a shoulder. The playboy sighed, leaning in to kiss one of his scarred cheeks.

“Things have to change,” he said, “you...you can’t-“

“Do what I do best?” the Joker asked. He shrugged. “Well, if I can’t destroy your city, you’ll have to make it up to me. In sex. Daily, and I might ask ya to wear the cowl.” Bruce stared at him, unbelieving.

“You mean...you’d actually...”

The Joker leaned over, shutting him up with a quick kiss. “Hush,” he said, his curls tickling Bruce’s cheeks. “I’d _try_. You’re under my skin, Bruce. You got under with the Bat at first, but then...you...I...” he trailed off, not having words, and settled for kissing Bruce again. The other man wrapped his arms around him, pulled him close, forgetting for a moment about his wounds. The Joker gasped into the kiss and Bruce backed off, mumbling an apology.

“Just one question,” Bruce said, “I know you...love Batman. I’ve known forever. But can you...can you love just me?” He leaned in, pressed his forehead to the Joker’s, their noses bumping briefly. The clown gave him a partial smile, a quick curl of those scarred lips.

“Brucie baby,” he cooed, “I already do.”

Bruce kissed him again, this time letting the Joker pull himself closer, cling to him.

The investigation into Arkham started two days later, after Harley, Ivy, and Scarecrow had been properly confined. Gordon had them sent to Blackgate for temporary holding, due to the work that would have to be done, and charged in head first into the asylum with warrens and seizures. As promised, Bruce met with him and told him he’d fund whatever he needed, that he’d seen what they had done to the Joker, and he thought it absolutely inhumane. They couldn’t expected anyone to recover when they were being abused.

“There’s no recovering for him,” Gordon said, lifting his coffee mug. “Trust me on it, Wayne.”

Bruce said absolutely nothing, just smiled into his coffee cup.

The asylum was shut down while investigations were launched. Patients were moved to other hospitals, or Blackgate if deemed dangerous enough, and offices were torn apart. In the chaos that came, it was easy to slip in and out-

And the Joker took full advantage. In the dark of the room he pulled on a pair of latex gloves, just as the body on the table began to move, groan. He grinned, turning on a bright overhead light and leaning over the man’s face.

“Helloooo Dr. Shepard,” he said, “Why, it’s been _far_ too long!”

The man stared up at him, wide eyed, and trashed. He was strapped down to the table, legs secured, one across his abdomen and ribs, one his chest and biceps. The Joker had gagged him, and he was making muffled cries around the dry fabric. The Joker leaned close, a hand to his ear, taunting, “Oh, what’s that Doc? Speak up, I can’t hear you!”

The man strained and the Joker straightened up, laughing. He reached out and pulled the gag down, giving Shepard a chance to take a deep breath before he screamed at the top of his lungs. The Joker only laughed.

“Sorry Doc,” he said, turning to fiddle with the instruments he had waiting on a cart. He turned back with a scalpel, grinning mercilessly. “No one can hear ya, you should know that. Don’t recognize this room? I’m sad, we spent some quality time here together.” Shepard looked around, face going pale. The Joker grabbed his shirt and ripped it open, tapping the scalpel against his chest. “I’ve got a theory to test on ya, Doc. So listen up, I _hate_ to repeat myself.” He moved down his body, cutting at his clothing and tearing it, exposing flesh here and there. “You told me you got that _nasty_ stuff from Scarecrow. Quite the bite it had. Well, I think you lied to me, Doc. You said it had _cost you_ a pretty penny, but I think it _earned_ you one.” He tapped the scalpel against the man’s groin, and Shepard made a sick sort of wailing groan. The Joker giggled and cut at the fabric, leaving his underwear exposed, and moving down one leg.

“Scarecrow contacted you, didn’t he?” the Joker asked. “He knew you had an obsession with me. See, I’ve done a little research since we last met. You’ve written quite a lot on me, it seems. Someone was a bit, ah, star struck!” He trailed back up, the scalpel blade just touched skin on his thigh. “He knew you were accepting a job at Arkham, he knew you would give almost anything to get to me. He knew that you believed I _couldn’t_ be helped.” He traced up to his abdomen, poised the scalpel tip against him, a few inches to the right of his navel. “So he told you what to do. He gave you the serum, he bought your way in, kicked good old Dr. Hill out. He gave you free reign over me, with just one condition-“ He paused, raised his fist and slammed it down into Shepard’s body, stabbing deep. The man cried out, body jerking, and the Joker’s grin turned dangerously angry, his eyes livid. “That I was dead within a few days. Isn’t that right, doc?”

He stabbed him again, and Shepard howled. The Joker pulled back, dropped the scalple, and looked at the blood on his glove. He shrugged, turned, pulled an IV rakc that had been sitting there, idle, closer. He tapped on Shepard’s arm, then carefully stuffed the needle in, hooking a bag up.

“Know what this is?” The Joker asked, leaning close again. “You should, you used it on me. Oh, I found your little stash. Gonna smuggle it out of Arkham? Use it on your next patient- if they didn’t take your licence, that is. Pity, they won’t get the chance now.” Shepard’s eyes went wide as the liquid pumped into him, as his body lit on fire. “So tell me, doc, how right am I?”

“Y-you’re right,” he cried out, “About all of it. Crane hired me, paid me, s-said-“ he stopped to scream, spasm, “said y-you’d be an easy target, locked in here with all your resources c-cut.”

The Joker paused to watch the fear in his eyes, the pain, before he reached down, grasping his groin through his underwear.

“Did he tell you to violate me too?” He spat, snarling at him. “Did he tell you to prob me like some common whore? Hmmm? To try and get me off while I was screaming for death? Or was that just you, Doc?” Shepard didn’t respond, and he squeezed harder. “I oughta cut your balls off, _freak_ ,” he said, “And feed your cock to you while you scream for me.”

He stood up straighter, releasing him, and Shepard glared.

“Y-you won’t get away with this,” he said, shaking, “T-they’ll catch you.”

“Who? The cops? When have I ever been afraid of the cops?” He laughed, and Shepard smirked through the pain.

“Not t-them,” he said, “the Batman.” The Joker stopped, looked at him, tapped his chin.

“Oh, you’re right! Batman! Oh dear oh dear, Batman will stop me, won’t he?” His mock scared face turned into a grin. “Oh wait, I forgot,” he said, “Good ole Batty boy is with me now.” He turned, called out “Bats!” and Bruce stepped from the shadows, his eyes hard and black, glaring at the man strapped down to the table. Shepard looked at him, hopeful, for a moment, before Bruce welcome the Joker into his arms, wrapping one around his waist, pushing past the white coat he’d stolen from Shepard, and resting on his naked side. He’d forgone a shirt, showing off only his bandages- his little trophies to Shepard that he was alive.

“Mmm, Bats, whaddya think,” he whispered, running a finger down his chest, “Should I split him open wide while he’s all drugged up? Maybe I should take a syringe full of this stuff and shove it right up his ass.” Bruce said nothing, just kept glaring at the man on the table, the hatred thick enough in the air he could drown in it.

“I’ve got an idea,” the Joker said, clapping his hands together. “Let’s up the dosage until he screams his throat raw and bloody. You can bend me rover the table while he does it. I’d love to watch his eyes as he dies and you’re inside me, loverboy.” The Joker leaned up, dragged his tongue along Bruce’s jawline, before looking back at Shepard. Bruce’s hand tightened on his side, and the Joker nuzzled him for a minute, before breaking free.

“See doc,” he said, “I don’t think the Batty Batman is goin’ to save you tonight.” He grinned, taking his scalpel and running it down his navel. “Tonight, you’re all mine.”

Bruce tried to tune out the screams. He receded back into the shadows, didn’t want to watch the Joker work. He remained only in case there was a problem, although his mind did mull over the Joker’s proposition. He hadn’t had the chance to be intimate with him again yet, he hadn’t wanted to postpone his recovery, but the idea was oddly...intriguing. He wouldn’t allow himself to fall that low, though, Bruce knew-

But he’d give the clown _exactly_ what he wanted once they were back at the manor.

When the man was finally done with his sordid game, when Shepard finally lay dead, Bruce smuggled him out into the night in silence. He didn’t speak, and the Joker didn’t push him. He sat with his head back in the Batmobile, hair free, having shed his jacket, letting the warm air settle on his naked chest.

He followed Bruce in silence, almost like a puppy, as he parked the Batmobile, made his way towards the elevator up to the manor from the cave.

“Not going out tonight?” the Joker finally asked as they climbed on, but Bruce didn’t answer. He grabbed him instead, lifting him up so his bottom rested on the thing railing, pinning him to the wall and kissed him almost viciously. The Joker, stunned, was placidly stil for a moment, before he wrapped his arms around Bruce, clawing at the cowl until he had pulled it down, sinking his fingers into his hair.

“No,” Bruce finally responded against his lips, nipping at the lower one. “You took up most of my night with your sick game.”

“Bastard deserved it,” the Joker said, “And I didn’t see you disagreeing. Breaking your rule, finally-“

“I didn’t kill him,” Bruce said, licking at the Joker’s jawline. “His death is on your conscious.” He giggled, arching so that Bruce had access to the pale, scarred skin of his collar bone and upper chest.

“You could have stopped me at any point,” the Joker said, “but you _didn’t_. Some savior you are, Batsy. You let me kill him.”

Bruce glared up at him, anger rising in his eyes, and the Joker shivered. “Ah, Bats, that’s what I want. Get a little mad, be a little rough. _Let it out_ , I can take it. You know I can. _That’s_ why you love me.”

Bruce slammed his hand out and stopped the elevator, pulling the Joker down and turning him around. The clown laughed as he was roughly stripped, as Bruce rained kisses and bites along his shoulder blades. He could feel his anger, knew Bruce was about to give it all to him, and that made him smile.

He loved Bruce, down in the coils of his belly he did, but he couldn’t deny he loved the Bat as well, the Bat that was being channeled as Bruce pried him open and made him whimper. This wouldn’t work if he didn’t- he had to be there to take that anger from him, to give the Bat an outlet so when damn came Bruce would be, well, Bruce. He could face the world, he could be sickly domestic with the Joker- who, admittedly, was quite a fan of those lazy mornings and watching Bruce drink his coffee.

But nights belonged to the Bat and his clown-bride, and the Joker would never think of changing that. And while he knew he would never push Bruce like he had that night, would never ask him to watch him kill a man, to stand back and let him be that sick maniac inside, he was grateful the man had given him that much tonight, had let him settle the score with the maniac that had violated him in a way he was not used to.

The Joker craned his neck to turn, catch Bruce’s lips, felt the poison on his tongue, the anger seeping out into him. He drank it down and knew he had been right, Bruce was no savior-

But he was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That's all she wrote, folks. I ended up going with a bit more of a darker ending than I first intended, but I'm pretty satisfied with the outcome. As ever, thanks for reading everyone :)


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